ZENOBIA; 


OR, 


THE  FALL  OF  PALMYEA. 


ZENOBIA; 


OB, 


at 


IN  LETTERS   OP  1.   MANLIUS   PISO,   FBOM  PALMYBA,   TO 
HIS  FRIEND  MARCUS   CURTIUS  AT  ROME. 


BY 

WILLIAM   WAKE, 

AUTHOR     OF     "AUBBLIAN,"     "JULIAN,"     ETC. 

NINTH     EDITION. 
TWO     VOLUMES     COMPLETE    IN     ONS. 

VOL.    I. 


0.    S.    FRANCIS    AND    COMPANY. 

BOSTON:— CEOSBY,  NICHOLS  AND  CO. 
M.DCCC.LIV. 


Entered,  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1838, 

by   CHARLES    S.   FRANCIS, 
in  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


gy  & 

Z  E  N  O  B  I  A .   / 

2- 


LETTER  I. 

IT  is  with  difficulty  that  I  persuade  myself,  that  it  is 
I  who  am  sitting  and  writing  to  you  from  this  great 
city  of  the  East.  Whether  I  look  upon  the  face  of 
nature,  or  the  works  of  man,  I  see  every  thing  different 
from  what  the  West  presents ;  so  widely  different,  that 
it  seems  to  me,  at  times,  as  if  I  were  subject  to  the 
power  of  a  dream.  But  I  rouse  myself,  and  find  that 
I  am  awake,  and  that  it  is  really  I,  your  old  friend  and 
neighbor,  Piso,  late  a  dweller  upon  the  Coelian  hill, 
who  am  now  basking  in  the  warm  skies  of  Palmyra, 
and,  notwithstanding  all  the  splendor  and  luxury  by 
which  I  am  surrounded,  longing  to  be  once  more  in 
Rome,  by  the  side  of  my  Curtius,  and  with  him  dis 
coursing,  as  we  have  been  wont  to  do,  of  the  acts  and 
policy  of  the  magnificent  Aurelian. 
VOL.  i.  1* 


ZENOBIA. 


But  to  the  purpose  of  this  letter,  which  is,  in  agree 
ment  with  my  promise,  to  tell  you  of  my  fortunes  since 
I  parted  from  you,  and  of  my  good  or  ill  success,  as  it 
may  be,  in  the  prosecution  of  that  affair  which  has 
driven  me  so  far  from  my  beloved  Rome.  O,  Human 
ity  !  why  art  thou  so  afflicted  ?  Why  have  the  immor 
tal  gods  made  the  cup  of  life  so  bitter  ?  And  why  am 
I  singled  out  to  partake  of  one  that  seems  all  bitter  ? 
My  feelings  sometimes  overmaster  my  philosophy. 
You  can  forgive  this,  who  know  my  sorrows.  Still  I 
am  delaying  to  inform  you  concerning  my  journey 
and  my  arrival.  Now  I  Avill  begin. 

As  soon  as  I  had  lost  sight  of  you  weeping  on  the 
quay,  holding  in  your  hand  the  little  Callus,  and  of  the 
dear  Lucilia  leaning  on  your  arm,  and  could  no  longer, 
even  by  mounting  upon  the  highest  part  of  the  vessel, 
discern  the  waving  of  your  hands,  nor  cause  you  to 
see  the  fervor  with  which  I  returned  the  sign  of 
friendship,  I  at  once  left  off  thinking  of  you,  as  far  as 
I  could,  and  to  divert  my  thoughts,  began  to  examine, 
as  if  I  had  never  seen  them  before,  the  banks  of  the 
yellow  Tiber.  At  first  the  crowds  of  shipping,  of  every 
form  and  from  every  part  of  the  world,  distracted  the 
sight,  and  compelled  me  to  observe  what  was  immedi 
ately  around  me.  The  cries  of  the  sailors,  as  they 
were  engaged  in  managing  different  parts  of  their  ves 
sels,  or  as  they  called  out  in  violent  and  abusive  terms 
to  those  who  passed  them,  or  as  their  several  galleys 
struck  against  each  other  in  their  attempts  to  go  up  or 
down  the  river,  together  with  the  frequent  roarings 
and  bellowings  of  whole  cargoes  of  wild  beasts  from 
the  deserts  of  Asia  and  Africa  destined  to  the  amphi- 


ZENOBIA.  3 

theatre,  intermingled  with  the  jargon  of  an  hundred 
different  barbarian  languages  from  the  thousands  who 
thronged  the  decks  of  this  fleet  of  all  nations, — these 
sights  and  sounds  at  first  wholly  absorbed  me,  and  for 
a  moment  shut  all  the  world  besides — even  you — 
out  of  my  mind.  It  was  a  strange  yet  inspiring  scene, 
and  gave  me  greater  thoughts  than  ever  of  the  power 
and  majesty  of  Rome.  Here  were  men  and  ships  that 
had  traversed  oceans  and  continents  to  bring  the  offer 
ings  of  their  toil,  and  lay  them  at  the  feet  of  the  mis 
tress  of  the  world.  And  over  all  this  bustle,  created 
by  the  busy  spirit  of  commerce,  a  splendor  and  gayety 
were  thrown  by  numerous  triremes  and  boats  of  plea 
sure,  which,  glittering  under  the  light  of  a  summer's 
morning  sun,  were  just  setting  out  upon  some  excur 
sion  of  pleasure,  with  streamers  floating  from  the 
slender  masts,  music  swelling  up  from  innumerable 
performers,  and  shouts  of  merry  laughter  from  crowds 
of  the  rich  and  noble  youths  of  the  city,  who  reclined 
upon  the  decks,  beneath  canopies  of  the  richest  dyes. 
As  these  Cleopatra  barges  floated  along  with  their  soft 
burden,  torrents  of  vituperative  epithet  were  poured 
upon  them  by  the  rough  children  of  Neptune,  which 
was  received  with  an  easy  indifference,  or  returned 
with  no  lack  of  ability  in  that  sort  of  warfare,  accord 
ing  to  the  temper  or  breeding  of  the  parties. 

When  the  novelty  of  this  scene  was  worn  out,  for 
though  often  seen  it  is  ever  new,  and  we  had  fallen  a 
few  miles  below  the  city,  to  where  the  eye  first  meets 
the  smiling  face  of  the  country,  I  looked  eagerly  around, 
first  upon  one,  and  then  upon  the  other  bank  of  the 
river,  in  search  of  the  villas  of  our  fortunate  citizens, 


4  Z£  NO  BI A. 

waiting  impatiently  till  the  well-known  turn  of  the 
stream  should  bring  me  before  yours,  where,  with  our 
mutual  friends,  we  have  passed  so  many  happy  days. 
It  was  not  long  before  I  was  gratified.  Our  vessel 
gracefully  doubled  the  projecting  point,  blackened  with 
that  thick  grove  of  pine,  and  your  hospitable  dwelling 
greeted  my  eyes  ;  now,  alas  !  again,  by  that  loved  and 
familiar  object,  made  to  overflow  with  tears.  I  was 
obliged,  by  one  manly  effort,  to  leap  clear  of  the  power 
of  all-subduing  love,  for  my  sensibilities  were  drawing 
upon  me  the  observation  of  my  fellow-passengers.  I 
therefore  withdrew  from  the  side  of  the  vessel  where  I 
had  been  standing,  and  moving  to  that  part  of  it  which 
would  best  protect  me  from  what,  but  now,  I  had  so 
eagerly  sought,  sat  down  and  occupied  myself  in  watch 
ing  the  movements  and  the  figures  of  the  persons  whom 
chance  had  thrown  into  my  company,  and  with  whom 
I  was  now,  for  so  many  days,  to  be  shut  up  in  the  nar 
row  compass  of  our  merchant-barque.  I  had  sat  but  a 
little  while,  when  the  master  of  the  ship,  passing  by 
me,  stopped,  and  asked  if  it  was  I  v/ho  was  to  land  at 
Utica — for  that  one,  or  more  than  one,  he  believed, 
had  spoken  for  a  passage  only  to  that  port. 

<  No,  truly,'  I  replied  ;  and  added  :  '  Do  you,  then, 
cross  over  to  Utica? — that  seems  to  me  far  from  a 
direct  course  for  those  bound  to  Syria.' 

'  Better  round-about,'  rejoined  he,  in  his  rough  way, 
1  than  risk  Scylla  and  Charybdis  ;  and  so  would  you 
judge,  were  the  bowels  of  my  good  ship  stored  with 
your  wealth,  as  they  are,  it  may  be,  with  that  of  some 
of  your  friends.  The  Roman  merchant  likes  not  that 
narrow  strait,  fatal  to  so  many,  but  prefers  the  open  sea, 
though  the  voyage  be  longer.  But  with  this  wind-  - 


ZENOBIA.  5 

once  out  of  this  foul  Tiber — and  we  shall  soon  see 
the  white  shores  of  Africa.  Truly,  what  a  medley  we 
seem  to  have  on  board !  Jews,  Romans,  Syrians, 
Greeks,  soldiers,  adventurers,  merchants,  pedlers,  and, 
if  I  miss  not,  Christians  too ;  and  you,  if  I  miss  not 
again,  the  only  patrician.  I  marvel  at  your  taking  ship 
with  so  spotted  a  company,  when  there  are  these  gay 
passenger-boats,  sacred  to  the  trim  persons  of  the  capi 
tal,  admitting  even  not  so  much  as  a  case  of  jewels 
besides.' 

*  Doubtless  it  would  have  been  better  on  some  ac 
counts,'  I  replied,  *  but  my  business  was  urgent,  and  I 
could  not  wait  for  the  sailing  of  the  packet-boats ;  and 
besides,  I  am  not  unwilling  to  adventure  where  1  shall 
mix  with  a  greater  variety  of  my  own  species,  and  gain 
a  better  knowledge  of  myself  by  the  study  of  others. 
In  this  object  I  am  not  likely  to  be  disappointed,  for 
you  furnish  me  with  diverse  samples,  which  I  can 
contemplate  at  my  leisure.' 

'  If  one  studied  so  as  to  know  well  the  properties  of 
fishes  or  animals,'  rejoined  he,  in  a  sneering  tone,  *  it 
would  be  profitable,  for  fishes  can  be  eaten,  and  animals 
can  be  used :  but  man !  I  know  little  that  he  is  good 
for,  but  to  bury,  and  so  fatten  the  soil.  Emperors,  as 
being  highest,  should  be  best,  and  yet,  what  are  they  ? 
Whether  they  have  been  fools  or  madmen,  the  Tiber 
has  still  run  blood,  and  the  air  been  poisoned  by  the 
rotting  carcasses  of  their  victims.  Claudius  was  a  good 
man,  I  grant ;  but  the  gods,  I  believe,  envied  us  our 
felicity,  and  so  took  him.' 

4 1  trust,'  said  I,  '  that  the  present  auspices  will  not 
deceive  us,  and  that  the  happiness  begun  under  that 


6  ZENOBI A. 

almost  divine  ruler,  will  be  completed  under  him  whom 
he  designated  as  most  worthy  of  the  sceptre  of  the 
world,  and  whose  reign— certainly  we  may  say  it- 
has  commenced  so  prosperously.  I  think  better  of  man 
than  you  do,  and  I  cannot  but  believe  that  there  will 
yet  rise  up  among  us  those  who  shall  feel  what  power, 
almost  of  a  god,  is  lodged  in  the  will  of  a  Roman 
emperor,  and  will  use  it  like  a  god  to  bless,  not  curse 
mankind.  Why  may  not  Nature  repeat  the  virtuous 
Antonines !  Her  power  is  not  spent.  For  myself,  I 
have  faith  that  Aurelian  will  restore  not  so  much  the 
greatness,  as  the  peace  and  happiness  of  the  empire.* 

'  So  have  not  I,'  cried  the  master  of  the  ship:  'is  he 
not  sprung  from  the  loins  of  a  peasant?  Has  not  the 
camp,  been  his  home  ?  Was  not  a  shield  his  cradle  ? 
Such  power  as  his  will  craze  him.  Born  to  it,  and  the 
chance  were  better.  Mark  a  sailor's  word:  he  will 
sooner  play  the  part  of  Maximin,  than  that  of  Antonine 
or  Severus,  or  of  our  late  good  Claudius.  When  he 
feels  easy  in  the  saddle,  we  shall  see  what  he  will  do. 
So  far,  the  blood  of  barbarians,  slain  in  battle,  has 
satisfied  him:  when  once  in  Rome,  that  of  citizens 
will  be  sweeter.  But  may  the  gods  befriend  us ! ' 

At  this  point  of  our  discourse,  we  were  interrupted 
by  loud  vociferations  from  the  forward  part  of  the 
vessel,  where  I  had  long  observed  a  crowd  of  the  pas 
sengers,  who  seemed  engaged  in  some  earnest  conver 
sation.  The  tones  now  became  sharp  and  angry,  and 
the  group  suddenly  dispersed,  separating  this  way  and 
that,  as  the  hoarse  and  commanding  voice  of  the  master 
of  the  ship  reached  them,  calling  upon  them  to  observe 
the  rules  of  the  vessel,  which  allowed  of  no  riot  or 
quarrelling.  Toward  me  there  moved  one  whom  I 


ZENOBIA.  7 

hardly  know  how  to  describe,  and  yet  feel  that  I  must. 
You  will  here  doubtless  exclaim,  '  Why  obliged  to  de 
scribe  ?  Why  say  so  much  of  accidental  companions  ?' 
But  you  will  answer  yourself,  I  feel  persuaded,  my 
Curtius,  by  supposing  that  I  should  not  particularly 
notice  a  mere  companion  of  the  voyage,  unless  he  had 
connected  himself  in  some  manner  with  my  fortunes. 
Such  has  been  the  case  with  this  person,  and  one  other 
whom  I  will  shortly  introduce  to  you.  As  I  was  say 
ing,  then,  when  that  group  dispersed,  one  of  its  number 
moved  toward  me,  and  seated  himself  at  my  side.  He 
was  evidently  a  Roman  and  a  citizen.  His  features 
were  of  no  other  nation.  But  with  all  the  dignity  that 
characterized  him  as  a  Roman,  there  were  mixed  a 
sweetness  and  a  mildness,  such  as  I  do  not  remember 
to  have  seen  in  another.  And  in  the  eye  there  was  a 
melancholy  and  a  deepness,  if  I  may  say  so,  more 
remarkable  still.  It  was  the  eye  of  one  who  was  all 
sorrow,  all  love,  and  all  purity;  in  whom  the  soul  had 
undisputed  sway  over  the  passions  and  the  senses.  I 
have  seen  an  expression  which  has  approached  it,  in 
some  of  our  priests,  but  far  below  it  in  power  and  beau 
ty.  My  first  impulse  was  to  address  him,  but  his  pallid 
and  thoughtful  countenance,  together  with  that  eye, 
restrained  me,  and  I  know  not  how  I  should  have 
overcome  this  strange  diffidence,  had  not  the  difficulty 
been  removed  by  the  intervention  of  a  third  party. 
Tliis  was  no  other  than  one  of  those  travelling  Jews, 
who  infest  all  cities,  towns  and  regions,  and  dwell 
among  all  people,  yet  mix  with  none.  He  was  bent 
almost  double  by  the  weight  of  large  packages  of 
goods,  of  all  descriptions,  which  he  carried,  part  before 


8  ZENOBIA. 

and  part  behind  him,  and  which  he  had  not  laid  aside, 
in  the  hope,  I  suppose,  of  effecting  some  sales  among 
the  passengers. 

'  Here's  old  Isaac  the  Jew,'  cried  he,  as  he  approach 
ed  toward  where  I  sat,  and  then  stood  before  me  resting 
his  pannier  of  articles  upon  a  pile  of  merchandise, 
which  lay  there — 'here's  old  Isaac  the  Jew,  last  from 
Rome,  but  a  citizen  of  the  world,  now  on  his  way  to 
Carthage  and  Syria,  with  all  sorts  of  jewelry  and  or 
naments  :  nothing  that  a  lady  wants  that's  not  here — • 
or  gentleman  either.  Most  noble  Sir,  let  me  press 
upon  you  this  steel  mirror,  of  the  most  perfect  polish : 
see  the  setting  too;  could  the  fancy  of  it  be  better? 
No  ?  You  would  prefer  a  ring :  look  then  at  this  as 
sortment — iron  and  gold  rings — marriage,  seal,  and 
fancy  rings — buckles  too :  have  you  seen  finer  ?  Here 
too  are  soaps,  perfumes,  and  salves  for  the  toilet — 
hair-pins  and  essences.  Perhaps  you  would  prefer 
somewhat  a  little  more  useful.  I  shall  show  you  then 
these  sandals  and  slippers ;  see  what  a  charming  va 
riety — both  in  form  and  color :  pretty  feet  alone  should 
press  these — think  you  not  so?  But,  alas!  I  cannot 
tempt  you.' 

'How  is  it  possible,'  said  I,  'for  another  to  speak 
when  thy  tongue  wags  so  fast?  Those  rings  I  would 
gladly  have  examined,  and  now  that  thou  hast  discharg 
ed  that  volley  of  hoarse  sounds,  I  pray  thee  open  again 
that  case.  I  thank  thee  for  giving  me  an  occupation.' 

'Take  care!'  replied  the  voluble  Jew,  throwing  a 
quick  and  mischievous  glance  toward  the  Roman  whom 
I  have  already  mentioned — '  take  care  how  my  friend 
here  of  the  new  faith  hears  thee  or  sees  the,  an'  thou 


ZEN  OBIA .  9 

wouldst  escape  a  rebuke.  He  holds  my  beauties  here 
and  my  calling  in  high  contempt,  and  as  for  occupa 
tion,  he  thinks  one  never  need  be  idle  who  has  himself 
to  converse  with.' 

'What  you  have  last  uttered  is  true,'  replied  the 
person  whom  he  addressed :  *  he  need  never  want  for 
employment,  who  possesses  the  power  of  thought.  But 
as  to  thy  trade,  I  object  not  to  that,  nor  to  what  thou 
sellest:  only  to  being  myself  a  buyer.' 

'Ha!  thou  wilt  not  buy?  Trust  Isaac  for  that.  I 
keep  that  which  shall  suit  all,  and  enslave  all.  I 
would  have  made  thee  buy  of  me  before,  but  for  the 
uproar  of  those  soldiers.' 

While  uttering  these  words,  he  had  placed  the  case 
of  rings  in  my  hands  to  examine  them,  and  was  en 
gaged  himself  in  exploring  the  depths  of  a  large  pack 
age,  from  which  he  at  length  triumphantly  drew  forth 
a  parchment  roll. 

'  Now  open  all  thine  eyes,  Nazarene,'  cried  the  Jew, 
'and  thou  shalt  see  what  thou  shalt.  Look  ! ' 

And  so  saying,  he  unfolded  the  first  portion  of  the 
roll,  upon  which  the  eye  of  the  Roman  had  no  sooner 
fallen,  than  his  face  suddenly  glowed  as  if  a  god 
shone  through  him,  and  reverently  seizing  the  book, 
he  exclaimed: 

'I  thank  *hee,  Jew;  thou  hast  conquered:  I  am  a 
customer  too.  Here  is  my  purse — take  what  thou 
wilt.' 

'  Hold,  hold  ! '  interrupted  the  Jew,  laughing,  '  I  have 

not  done  with  thee  yet;    what  thou  hast  bought  in 

Greek,  I  would  now  sell  thee  again  in  Latin.     Thy 

half  convert,  the  soldier  Macer,  would  greet  this  as  a 

VOL.  i.  2 


10  ZE  NOBIA. 

cordial  to  his  famishing  soul.  Take  both,  and  thou 
hast  them  cheaper.' 

'  Your  cunning  hardly  deserves  such  a  reward,'  said 
the  Christian,  as  I  now  perceived  him  to  be,  'but  you 
have  said  well,  and  I  not  unwillingly  obey  your  sug 
gestions.  Pay  yourself  now  for  both,  and  give  them 
to  me  carefully  rolled  up.' 

'  No  better  sale  than  this  shall  I  make  to-day,  and 
that  too  to  a  Jew-hating  Nazarene.  But  what  matters 
it  whom  I  tax  for  the  upholding  of  Jerusalem?  Surely 
it  is  sweeter,  when  the  cruel  Koman  or  the  heretic 
Christian  is  made  unconsciously  to  build  at  her  walls.' 

Thus  muttered  the  Jew  to  himself,  as  he  skilfully 
bound  into  a  parcel  the  Christian's  books. 

'  And  now,  most  excellent  Sir,'  said  he,  turning  to 
ward  me,  '  what  do  you  find  worthy  your  own  or  your 
lady's  finger  ?  Here  is  another  case — perhaps  these 
may  strike  you  as  rarer  for  their  devices,  or  their 
workmanship.  But  they  are  rather  better  suited  to 
the  tastes  of  the  rich  Palmyrenes,  to  whom  I  am  bear 
ing  them.' 

*  Ah ! '  I  exclaimed,  '  these  are  what  I  want.     This 
seal  ring,  with  the  head  of  Zenobia,  for  which  I  sought 
in  vain  in  Rome,  I  will  buy,  nor  care  for  its  cost,  if 
thou  canst  assure  me  of  its  resemblance  to  the  great 
Queen.     "Who  was  the  artist  ? ' 

*  As  I  stand  here,  a  true  son  of  Abraham,'  he  replied, 
'it  was  worked  by  a  Greek  jeweller,  who  lives  hard  by 
the  Temple  of  Fortune,  and  who  has  engraved  it  after 
a  drawing  made  by  a  brother,  an  inhabitant  of  Palmyra. 
Two  such  artists  in  their  way  are  not  to  be  found.     I 
myself,  moreover,  bore  the  original  drawing  from  De- 


ZENOBIA  .  11 

metrius  to  his  brother  in  Rome,  and  that  it  is  like  the 
great  Queen,  I  can  well  testify,  for  I  have  often  seen 
her.  Her  marvellous  heauty  is  here  well  expressed, 
or  as  well  as  that  which  partakes  so  much  more  of 
heaven  than  of  earth  can  be.  But  look  at  these,  too ! 
Here  I  have  what  I  look  to  do  well  with.  See !  heads 
of  Odenatus'.  Think  you  not  they  will  take  well? 
These  also  are  done  with  the  same  care  as  the  others, 
and  by  the  same  workmen.  Nothing  of  the  kind  has 
as  yet  been  seen  in  Palmyra,  nor  indeed  in  Rome. 
Happy  Isaac ! — thy  fortune  is  made !  Come,  put  them 
on  thy  finger,  and  observe  their  beauty.  King  and 
Queen — how  lovingly  they  sit  there  together!  'Twas 
just  so  when  Odenatus  was  alive.  They  were  a  noble 
and  a  loving  pair.  The  Queen  yet  weeps  for  him.' 

'  Jew,'  said  I,  '  on  thy  word  I  purchase  these.  Al 
though  thy  name  is  in  no  good  repute,  yet  thy  face  is 
honest,  and  I  will  trust  thee  so  far.' 

'  The  name  of  the  unfortunate  and  the  weak  is  never 
in  repute,'  said  Isaac,  as  he  took  my  money  and  folded 
up  the  rings,  his  whole  manner  suddenly  changing. 
4  The  Jew  is  now  but  a  worm,  writhing  under  the  heel 
of  the  proud  Roman.  Many  a  time  has  he,  however, 
as  thou  well  knowest,  turned  upon  his  destroyer,  and 
tasted  the  sweetness  of  a  brief  revenge.  Why  should 
I  speak  of  the  massacres  of  Egypt,  Gyrene,  and  Syria 
in  the  days  of  Trajan?  Let  Rome  beware!  Small 
though  we  seem,  the  day  will  yet  arrive  when  the 
glory  of  Zion  shall  fill  the  whole  earth — and  He  shall 
come,  before  whom  the  mighty  Emperor  of  Rome  shall 
tremble  in  his  palaces. — This  is  what  I  say.  Thanks 
to  the  great  Aurelian,  that  even  a  poor  son  of  Abraham 


12  ZENOBIA. 

may  speak  his  mind  and  not  lose  his  head.  Here's 
old  Isaac:  who'll  buy  of  old  Isaac — rings — pins — and 
razors, — who'll  buy  ? ' 

And  so  singing,  he  turned  away,  and  mixed  with  the 
passengers  in  the  other  parts  of  the  vessel.  The  wild 
glare  of  his  eye,  and  deep,  suppressed  tone  of  his  voice, 
as  he  spoke  of  the  condition  and  hopes  of  his  tribe, 
startled  and  moved  me,  and  I  would  willingly  have 
prolonged  a  conversation  with  one  of  that  singular  peo 
ple,  about  whom  I  really  know  nothing,  and  with  none 
of  whom  had  I  ever  before  come  in  contact.  When  1 
see  you  again,  I  shall  have  much  to  tell  you  of  him ; 
for  during  the  rest  of  the  voyage  we  were  often  thrown 
together,  and,  as  you  will  learn,  he  has  become  of  es 
sential  service  to  me  in  the  prosecution  of  my  objects. 

No  sooner  had  Isaac  withdrawn  from  our  company, 
than  I  embraced  the  opportunity  to  address  myself  to 
the  remarkable-looking  person  whom  I  have  already 
in  part  described. 

*  It  is  a  great  testimony,'  I  said,  turning  toward  him, 
'which  these  Jews  bear  to  their  national  religion.  I 
much  doubt  if  Romans,  under  similar  circumstances  of 
oppression,  would  exhibit  a  constancy  like  theirs.  Their 
attachment  too  is  to  an  invisible  religion,  as  one  may 
say,  which  makes  it  the  more  remarkable.  They  have 
neither  temples,  altars,  victims,  nor  statues,  nor  any 
form  of  god  or  goddess,  to  which  they  pay  real  or 
feigned  adoration.  Toward  us  they  bear  deep  and  in 
extinguishable  hate,  for  our  religion  not  less  than  for 
our  oppressions.  I  never  see  a  Jew  threading  our 
streets  with  busy  steps,  and  his  dark,  piercing  eye,  but 
I  seem  to  see  an  assassin,  who,  with  Caligula,  wishes 


2ENOBIA.  13 

flie  Roman  people  had  but  one  neck,  that  he  might 
exterminate  the  whole  race  with  a  single  blow.  To 
ward  you,  however,  who  are  so  nearly  of  his  own  faith, 
I  suppose  his  sentiments  are  more  kindly.  The  Chris 
tian  Roman,  perhaps,  he  would  spare.' 

'  Not  so,  I  greatly  fear,'  replied  the  Christian.  « Nay, 
the  Jew  bears  a  deeper  hatred  toward  us  than  toward 
you,  and  would  sooner  sacrifice  us;  for  the  reason, 
doubtless,  that  we  are  nearer  him  in  faith  than  you; 
just  as  our  successful  emperors  have  no  sooner  found 
themselves  securely  seated,  than  they  have  first  turned 
upon  the  members  of  their  own  family,  that  from  this, 
the  most  dangerous  quarter,  there  should  be  no  fear  of 
rival  or  usurper.  The  Jew  holds  the  Christian — 
though  in  some  sort  believing  with  him — as  a  rival — 
a  usurper — a  rebel;  as  one  who  would  substitute  a 
novelty  for  the  ancient  creed  of  his  people,  and,  in  a 
word,  bring  ruin  upon  the  very  existence  of  his  tribe. 
His  suspicions,  truly,  are  not  without  foundation;  but 
they  do  not  excuse  the  temper  with  which  he  regards 
us.  I  cast  no  imputation  upon  the  virtues  of  friend 
Isaac,  in  what  I  say.  The  very  spirit  of  universal 
love,  I  believe,  reigns  in  his  soul.  Would  that  all  of 
his  race  were  like  him.' 

*  What  you  say  is  new  and  strange,'  I  replied.  *  I 
may  possibly  bring  shame  upon  myself,  by  saying  so, 
but  it  is  true.  I  have  been  accustomed  to  regard 
Christians  and  Jews  as  in  effect  one  people ;  one,  I 
mean,  in  opinion  and  feeling.  But  in  truth  I  know 
nothing.  You  are  not  ignorant  of  the  prejudice  which 
exists  toward  both  these  races,  on  the  part  of  the  Ro 
mans.  I  have  yielded,  with  multitudes  around  me,  to 
VOL.  i.  2^ 


14  2  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

prevailing  ideas,  taking  no  steps  to  learn  their  truth  or 
error.  Our  writers,  from  Tacitus  to  the  base  tools — 
for  such  they  must  have  been — who  lent  themselves 
to  the  purposes  of  the  bigot  Macrianus,  and  who  filled 
the  city  with  their  accounts  of  the  Christians,  have  all 
agreed  in  representing  your  faith  as  a  dark  and  mis 
chievous  superstition.  I  have,  indeed,  been  struck 
with  the  circumstance,  that  while  the  Jews  make  no 
converts  from  among  us,  great  numbers  are  reported  to 
have  joined  the  Christians  ;  and  of  those,  not  a  few  of 
the  higher  orders.  The  late  Emperor  Philip,  I  think 
it  clear,  was  a  Christian.  This  might  have  taught  me 
that  there  is  a  wide  difference  between  the  Christian 
and  the  Jew.  But  the  general  hatred  toward  both  the 
one  and  the  other,  together  with  the  persecutions  to 
which  they  have  been  exposed,  have  made  me  more 
than  indifferent  to  their  merits.' 

'  I  trust  the  time  will  come,'  replied  the  Christian, 
'  when  our  cause  will  be  examined  on  the  ground  of  its 
merits.  Why  may  we  not  believe  that  it  has  now 
come  ?  The  Roman  world  is  at  peace.  A  strong  and 
generous  prince  is  upon  the  throne.  Mild  and  just 
laws  restrain  the  furious  bigotry  of  an  ignorant  and 
sanguinary  priesthood.  Men  of  intelligence  and  virtue 
adorn  our  profession,  from  whom  those  who  are  anx 
ious  to  know  the  truth  can  hear  it ;  and  copies  of  our 
sacred  books  both  in  Greek  and  Latin  abound,  whence 
may  easily  be  learned  the  true  principles  of  our  faith, 
and  the  light  of  whose  holy  pages  would  instantly  dis 
pel  the  darkness  by  which  the  minds  of  many,  even  of 
the  virtuous  and  well-disposed,  are  oppressed.  It  is 
hardly  likely  that  a  fitter  opportunity  will  soon  offer  for 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  15 

an  examination  of  the  claims  of  Christianity.  We  have 
nothing  to  dread  but  the  deadness  and  indifference  of 
the  public  mind.  It  is  not  credible  that  polytheism 
should  stand  a  day  upon  any  fair  comparison  of  it  with 
the  religion  of  Christ.  You  yourself  are  not  a  believ 
er  (pardon  my  boldness)  in  the  ineffable  stupidities  of 
the  common  religion.  To  suppose  you  were — I  see 
by  the  expression  of  your  countenance — would  be  the 
unpardonable  offence.  I  sincerely  believe,  that  nothing 
more  is  wanting  to  change  you,  and  every  intelligent 
Roman,  from  professed  supporters  of  the  common 
religion,  (but  real  infidels,)  into  warm  believers  and 
advocates  of  the  doctrine  of  Christ — but  simply  this— 
to  read  his  sayings,  and  the  delineation  of  his  charac 
ter,  as  they  have  been  written  down  by  some  of  his 
followers.  You  are,  I  see,  incredulous,  but  not  more 
so  than  I  was  myself  only  a  year  ago  ;  yet  you  behold 
me  a  Christian.  I  had  to  contend  against,  perhaps, 
far  more  adverse  influences  than  would  oppose  you. 
You  start  with  surprise  that  I  should  give  evidence 
that  I  know  you ;  but  I  have  many  a  time  seen  you 
at  the  shop  of  Publius,  and  have  heard  you  in  your 
addresses  to  the  people, 

<I  am  the  son  of  a  priest  of  the  Temple  of  Jupiter — 
of  a  man,  who,  to  a  mildness  and  gentleness  of  soul 
that  would  do  honor  to  the  Christian,  added  a  faith  in 
the  religion  of  his  fathers,  deep-struck  and  firm-rooted 
as  the  rocks  of  ocean.  I  was  his  assistant  in  the  du 
ties  of  his  office.  My  childish  faith  was  all  he  could 
wish  it ;  I  reverenced  a  religion  which  had  nurtured 
virtues  like  his.  In  process  of  time,  I  became  myself 
a  father.  Four  children,  more  beautiful  than  ever 


16  Z  K  N  0  B  i  A  , 

visited  the  dreams  of  Phidias,  made  my  dwelling  a 
portion  of  Elysium,  as  I  then  thought.  Their  mother 
— but  why  should  I  speak  of  her  ?  It  is  enough  to 
say,  she  was  a  Roman  mother.  At  home,  it  was  my 
supreme  happiness  to  sport  with  my  little  ones,  or 
initiate  them  into  the  elements  of  useful  knowledge. 
And  often,  when  at  the  temple  preparing  for  the  days 
of  ceremony,  my  children  were  with  me ;  and  my  la 
bors  were  nothing,  cheered  by  the  music  of  their  feet 
running  upon  the  marble  pavements,  and  of  their  mer 
ry  voices  echoing  among  the  columns  and  arches  of 
the  vast  interior.  O  days  thrice  happy !  They  were 
too  happy  to  last.  Within  the  space  of  one  year — one 
cruel  year — these  four  living  idols  were  ravished  from 
my  arms  by  a  prevailing  disease.  My  wife,  broken 
hearted,  soon  followed  them,  and  I  was  left  alone.  I 
need  not  describe  my  grief:  I  will  only  say,  that  with 
bitter  imprecations  I  cursed  the  gods.  '  Who  are  ye,' 
I  cried,  '  who  sit  above  in  your  secure  seats,  and  make 
your  sport  of  human  wo  ?  Ye  are  less  than  men. 
Man  though  I  am,  I  would  not  inflict  upon  the  meanest 
slave  the  misery  ye  have  poured  upon  my  defenceless 
head.  Where  are  your  mercies  ? '  I  \vas  frantic. 
How  long  this  lasted  I  cannot  tell,  for  I  took  no  note 
of  time.  I  was  awakened,  may  I  not  say  saved,  by  a 
kind  neighbor  whom  I  had  long  known  to  be  a  Chris- 
dan.  He  was  a  witness  of  my  sufferings,  and  with 
deep  compassion  ministered  to  my  necessities.  '  Pro- 
bus,'  said  he, '  I  know  your  sorrows,  and  I  know  your 
wants.  I  have  perceived  that  neither  your  own 
thoughts,  nor  all  the  philosophy  of  your  venerable 
father,  have  brought  you  peace.  It  is  not  surprising : 
ye  are  but  men,  and  ye  have  but  the  power  and  the 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  17 

wisdom  of  men.  It  is  aid  from  the  Divinity  that  you 
want.  I  will  not  discourse  with  you  ;  but  I  leave  with 
you  this  book,  which  I  simply  ask  you  to  read.'  I 
read  it — and  read  it — again  and  again ;  and  I  am  a 
Christian.  As  the  Christian  grew  up  within  me,  my 
pains  were  soothed,  and  days,  once  days  of  tears  and 
unavailing  complaints,  are  now  days  of  calm  and 
cheerful  duty :  I  am  a  new  man.' 

I  cannot  describe  to  you,  my  Curtius,  the  effect  of 
this  little  narrative  upon  myself,  or  upon  those  who,  as 
he  spoke,  had  gathered  round,  especially  those  hard- 
featured  soldiers.  Tears  flowed  down  their  weather- 
beaten  faces,  and  one  of  them — Macer,  as  I  afterward 
learned — cried  out :  '  Where  now  are  the  gods  of 
Rome  ? '  Probus  started  from  his  seat,  apparently  for 
the  first  time  conscious  of  any  other  listener  beside 
myself,  and  joined  the  master  of  the  vessel  at  the  helm. 
I  resigned  myself  to  meditation ;  and  that  night  fell 
asleep,  thinking  of  the  Christian  and  his  book. 

Leaving  now  Ostia  and  its  fleet,  greater  even  than 
that  of  the  Tiber,  five  days  brought  us  in  sight  of  the 
African  shore,  but  quite  to  the  west  of  Utica.  So, 
coasting  along,  we  presently  came  off  against  Hippo, 
and  then  doubling  a  promontory,  both  Utica  and  Car 
thage  were  at  once  visible — Utica  nearer,  Carthage  just 
discernibleMn  the  distance.  All  was  now  noise  and 
bustle,  as  we  rapidly  drew  near  the  port.  Many  of 
our  passengers  were  to  land  here,  and  they  were  busily 
employed,  with  the  aid  of  the  sailors,  in  collecting  their 
merchandise  or  tbeir  baggage.  The  soldiers  destined 
to  the  African  service  here  left  us,  together  with  the 
Jew  Isaac  and  the  Christian  Probus.  I  was  sorry  to 


18  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

lose  them,  as  beside  them  there  was  not  one  on  board, 
except  the  governor  of  the  ship,  from  whose  company 
or  conversation  I  could  derive  either  pleasure  or 
knowledge.  They  are  both,  however,  destined  to 
Palmyra,  and  I  shall  soon  expect  them  to  join  me  here. 
You  smile  at  my  speaking  thus  of  a  travelling  Jew 
and  a  despised  Christian,  but  in  the  issue  you  will 
acknowledge  your  as  well  as  my  obligations  to  them 
both.  I  confess  myself  attached  to  them.  As  the  Jew 
turned  to  bid  me  farewell,  before  he  sprang  on  shore, 
he  said : 

'  Most  noble  Piso,  if  thou  forsakest  the  gods  of  Rome, 
let  it  be  for  the  synagogue  of  the  children  of  Abraham, 
whose  faith  is  not  of  yesterday.  Be  not  beguiled  by 
the  specious  tongue  of  that  heretic  Probus.  I  can  tell 
thee  a  better  story  than  his.' 

*  Fear  not,  honest  Isaac,'  I  cried ;  '  I  am  not  yet  so 
weary  of  the  faith  of  my  ancestors.  That  cannot  be 
altogether  despicable,  which  has  had  power  to  bind  in 
one  mass  the  whole  Roman  people  for  so  many  ages 
I  shall  be  no  easy  convert  to  either  you  or  Probus. 
Farewell,  to  meet  in  Tadmor.' 

Probus  now  passed  me,  and  said  :  '  If  I  should  not 
see  you  in  the  Eastern  capital,  according  to  my  pur 
pose,  I  trust  I  shall  in  Rome.  My  dwelling  is  in  the 
Livian  way  not  far  from  the  Pantheon,  opposite  the 
well-known  house  of  Vitruvius,  still  so  called ;  or,  at 
the  shop  of  the  learned  Publius,  I  may  be  seen  every 
morning,  and  may  there  be  always  heard  of.' 

I  assured  him,  that  no  affairs  could  be  so  pressing, 
after  I  should  return  to  Rome,  as  not  to  allow  me  to  seek 
him,  but  that  I  hoped  the  fates  would  not  interpose  to 


Z  E  N  O  B I A  .  19 

deprive  me  of  the  pleasure  of  first  seeing  him  in  Pal 
myra. 

So  we  parted.  And  very  soon  after,  the  merchandise 
and  passengers  being  all  landed,  we  set  sail  again,  and 
stood  out  to  sea.  I  regretted  that  we  were  not  to  touch 
at  Carthage,  as  my  desire  had  always  heen  strong  to 
see  that  famous  place.  An  adverse  wind,  however, 
setting  in  from  the  North,  drove  us  farther  toward  the 
city  than  the  pilot  intended  to  have  gone,  and  I  thus 
obtained  quite  a  satisfactory  glimpse  of  the  African 
capital.  I  was  surprised  at  the  indications  of  its  vast- 
ness  and  grandeur.  Since  its  attempted  restoration  by 
Augustus,  it  has  advanced  steadily  to  almost  its  for 
mer  populousness  and  magnificence.  Nothing  could 
be  more  imposing  and  beautiful,  than  its  long  lines  of 
buildings,  its  towers,  walls,  palaces,  and  columns,  seen 
through  the  warm  and  rosy  mist  of  an  African  sky. 
I  could  hardly  believe  that  I  was  looking  but  upon  a 
provincial  city,  a  dependant  upon  almighty  Rome.  It 
soon  sank  below  the  horizon,  as  its  glory  had  sunk 
once  before. 

I  will  not  detain  you  long  with  our  voyage,  but  will 
only  mark  but  its  course.  Leaving  the  African  shore, 
we  struck  across  to  Sicily,  and  coasting  along  its  east 
ern  border,  beheld  with  pleasure  the  towering  form  of 
jfEtna,  sending  up  into  the  heavens  a  dull  and  sluggish 
cloud  of  vapors.  We  then  ran  between  the  Pelopon 
nesus  and  Crete,  and  so  held  our  course  till  the  Island 
of  Cyprus  rose  like  her  own  fair  goddess  from  the 
ocean,  and  filled  our  eyes  with  a  beautiful  vision  of  hill 
and  valley,  wooded  promontory,  and  glittering  towns 
and  villas.  A  fair  wind  soon  withdrew  us  from  these 
charming  prospects,  and  after  driving  us  swiftly  and 


20  ZENOBIA. 

roughly  over  the  remainder  of  our  way,  rewarded  us 
with  a  brighter  and  more  welcome  vision  still — the 
coast  of  Syria  and  our  destined  port,  Berytus. 

As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  both  toward  the  North 
and  the  South,  we  beheld  a  luxuriant  region,  crowded 
with  villages,  and  giving  every  indication  of  comfort 
and  wealth.  The  city  itself,  which  we  rapidly  approach 
ed,  was  of  inferior  size,  but  presented  an  agreeable 
prospect  of  warehouses,  public  and  private  edifices, 
overtopped  here  and  there  by  the  lofty  palm,  and  other 
trees  of  a  new  and  peculiar  foliage.  Four  days  were 
consumed  here  in  the  purchase  of  slaves,  camels,  and 
horses,  and  in  other  preparations  for  the  journey  across 
the  Desert.  Two  routes  presented  themselves,  one  more, 
the  other  less  direct ;  the  last,  though  more  circuitous, 
appeared  to  me  the  more  desirable,  as  it  would  take  me 
within  sight  of  the  modern  glories  and  ancient  remains 
of  Heliopolis.  This,  therefore,  was  determined  upon ; 
and  on  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day  we  set  forward 
upon  our  long  march.  Four  slaves,  two  camels,  and 
three  horses,  with  an  Arab  conductor,  constituted  our 
little  caravan ;  but  for  greater  safety  we  attached  our 
selves  to  a  much  larger  one  than  our  own,  in  which  we 
were  swallowed  up  and  lost,  consisting  of  travellers 
and  traders,  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  who  were 
also  on  their  way  to  Palmyra,  as  a  point  whence  to 
separate  to  various  parts  of  the  vast  East.  It  would 
delight  me  to  lay  before  you  with  the  distinctness  and 
minuteness  of  a  picture,  the  whole  of  this  novel,  and  to 
me  most  interesting  route ;  but  I  must  content  myself 
with  a  slight  sketch,  and  reserve  fuller  communications 
to  the  time  when,  once  more  seated  with  you  upon  the 
Crelian,  we  enjoy  the  freedom  of  social  converse. 


ZENOBIA.  251 

Our  way  through  the  valleys  of  Libanus,  was  like 
one  long  wandering  among  the  pleasure  grounds  of 
opulent  citizens.  The  land  was  every  where  richly 
cultivated,  and  a  happier  peasantry,  as  far  as  the  eye 
of  the  traveller  could  judge,  nowhere  exists.  The  most 
luxuriant  vallejrs  of  our  own  Italy  are  not  more  crowded 
with  the  evidences  of  plenty  and  contentment.  Upon 
drawing  near  to  the  ancient  Baalbec,  I  found  on  inquiry 
of  our  guide,  that  we  were  not  to  pass  through  it,  as  I 
had  hoped,  nor  even  very  near  it,  not  nearer  than  be 
tween  two  and  three  miles.  So  that  in  this  I  had  been 
clearly  deceived  by  those  of  whonj  I  had  made  the  most 
exact  inquiries  at  Berytus.  I  thought  I  discovered 
great  command  of  myself,  in  that  I  did  not  break  the 
head  of  my  Arab,  who  doubtless,  to  answer  purposes 
of  his  own,  had  brought  me  thus  out  of  my  way  for 
nothing.  The  event  proved,  however,  that  it  was  not 
for  nothing ;  for  soon  after  we  had  started  on  our  jour 
ney,  on  the  morning  of  the  second  day,  turning  sud 
denly  round  the  projecting  rock  of  a  mountain  ridge, 
we  all  at  once  beheld,  as  if  a  veil  had  been  lifted  up, 
Heliopolis  and  its  suburbs,  spread  out  before  us  in  all 
their  various  beauty.  The  city  lay  about  three  miles 
distant.  I  could  only,  therefore,  identify  its  principal  \ 
structure,  the  Temple  of  the  Sun,  as  built  by  the  first 
Antonine.  'This  towered  above  the  walls,  and  over  all 
the  other  buildings,  and  gave  vast  ideas  of  the  great 
ness  of  the  place,  leading  the  mind  to  crowd  it  with 
other  edifices  that  should  bear  some  proportion  to  this 
noble  monument  of  imperial  magnificence.  As  sudden 
ly  as  the  view  of  this  imposing  scene  had  been  revealed, 
so  suddenly  was  it  again  eclipsed,  by  another  short  turn 

in  the  road,  which  took  us  once  more  into  the  mountain 
3 


22  ZENOBIA. 

valleys.  But  the  overhanging  and  impenetrable  foliage 
of  a  Syrian  forest,  shielding  me  from  the  fierce  rays  of 
a  burning  sun,  soon  reconciled  me  to  my  loss — more 
especially  as  I  knew  that  in  a  short  time  we  were  to 
enter  upon  the  sandy  desert,  which  stretches  from  the 
Anti-Libanus  almost  to  the  very  walls  of  Palmyra. 

Upon  this  boundless  desert  we  now  soon  entered. 
The  scene  which  it  presented  was  more  dismal  than  I 
can  describe.  A  red  moving  sand — or  hard  and  baked 
by  the  heat  of  a  sun  such  as  Rome  never  knows — low 
gray  rocks  just  rising  here  and  there  above  the  level  of 
the  plain,  with  now^and  then  the  dead  and  glittering 
trunk  of  a  vast  cedar,  whose  roots  seemed  as  if  they  had 
outlasted  centuries — the  bones  of  camels  and  elephants, 
scattered  on  either  hand,  dazzling  the  sight  by  reason 
of  their  excessive  whiteness — at  a  distance  occasionally 
an  Arab  of  the  desert,  for  a  moment  surveying  our  long 
line,  and  then  darting  off  to  his  fastnesses — these  were 
the  objects  which,  with  scarce  any  variation,  met  our 
eyes  during  the  four  wearisome  days  that  we  dragged 
ourselves  over  this  wild  and  inhospitable  region.  A 
little  after  the  noon  of  the  fourth  day,  as  we  started  on 
our  way,  having  refreshed  ourselves  and  our  exhausted 
animals  at  a  spring  which  here  poured  out  its  warm 
but  still  grateful  waters  to  the  traveller,  my  ears  received 
the  agreeable  news  that  toward  the  east  there  could 
now  be  discerned  the  dark  line,  which  indicated  our 
approach  to  the  verdant  tract  that  encompasses  the 
great  city  Our  own  excited  spirits  were  quickly  im 
parted  to  our  beasts,  and  a  more  rapid  movement  soon 
revealed  into  distinctness  the  high  land  and  waving 
groves  of  palm  trees  which  mark  the  site  of  Palmyra. 


ZE  NOBIA.  23 

It  was  several  miles  before  we  reached  the  city,  that 
we  suddenly  found  ourselves — landing  as  it  were  from 
a  sea  upon  an  island  or  continent — in  a  rich  and  thickly 
peopled  country.  The  roads  indicated  an  approach  to 
a  great  capital,  in  the  increasing  numbers  of  those  who 
thronged  them,  meeting  and  passing  us,  overtaking  us, 
or  crossing  our  way.  Elephants,  camels,  and  the  dro 
medary,  which  I  had  before  seen  only  in  the  amphithe 
atres,  I  here  beheld  as  the  native  inhabitants  of  the  soil. 
Frequent  villas  of  the  rich  and  luxurious  Palmyrenes, 
to  which  they  retreat  from  the  greater  heats  of  the  city, 
now  threw  a  lovely  charm  over  the  scene.  Nothing 
can  exceed  the  splendor  of  these  sumptuous  palaces. 
Italy  itself  has  nothing  which  surpasses  them.  The 
new  and  brilliant  costumes  of  the  persons  whom  we 
met,  together  with  the  rich  housings  of  the  animals 
they  rode,  served  greatly  to  add  to  all  this  beauty.  I 
was  still  entranced,  as  it  were,  by  the  objects  around 
me,  and  buried  in  reflection,  when  I  was  roused  by  the 
shout  of  those  who  led  the  caravan,  and  who  had  at 
tained  the  summit  of  a  little  rising  ground,  saying, 
'  Palmyra !  Palmyra ! '  I  urged  forward  my  steed,  and 
in  a  moment  the  most  wonderful  prospect  I  ever  be 
held — no,  I  cannot  except  even  Rome — burst  upon  my 
sight.  Flanked  by  hills  of  considerable  elevation  on 
the  East,  the  city  filled  the  whole  plain  below  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach,  both  toward  the  North  and 
toward  the  South.  This  immense  plain  was  all  one 
vast  and  boundless  city.  It  seemed  to  me  to  be  larger 
than  Rome.  Yet  I  knew  very  well  that  it  could  not 
be — that  it  was  not.  And  it  was  some  time  before  I 
understood  the  true  character  of  the  scene  before  me, 


24  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

so  as  to  separate  the  city  from  the  country,  and  the 
country  from  the  city,  which  here  wonderfully  inter 
penetrate  each  other  and  so  confound  and  deceive  the 
observer.  For  the  city  proper  is  so  studded  with 
groups  of  lofty  palm  trees,  shooting  up  among  its 
temples  and  palaces,  and  on  the  other  hand,  the  plain 
in  its  immediate  vicinity  is  so  thickly  adorned  with 
magnificent  structures  of  the  purest  marble,  that  it  is 
not  easy,  nay  it  is  impossible  at  the  distance  at  which 
I  contemplated  the  whole,  to  distinguish  the  line  which 
divided  the  one  from  the  other.  It  was  all  city  and  all 
country,  all  country  and  all  city.  Those  which  lay 
before  me  I  was  ready  to  believe  were  the  Elysian 
Fields.  I  imagined  that  I  saw  under  my  feet  the 
dwellings  of  purified  men  and  of  gods.  Certainly  they 
were  too  glorious  for  the  mere  earth-born.  There  was 
a  central  point,  however,  which  chiefly  fixed  my  at 
tention,  where  the  vast  Temple  of  the  Sun  stretched 
upward  its  thousand  columns  of  polished  marble  to  the 
heavens,  in  its  matchless  beauty  casting  into  the  shade 
every  other  work  of  art  of  which  the  world  can  boast. 
I  have  stood  before  the  Parthenon,  and  have  almost 
worshipped  that  divine  achievement  of  the  immortal 
Phidias.  But  it  is  a  toy  by  the  side  of  this  bright 
crown  of  the  Eastern  capital.  I  have  been  at  Milan, 
at  Ephesus,  at  Alexandria,  at  Antioch ;  but  in  neither 
of  those  renowned  cities  have  I  beheld  any  thing  that 
I  can  allow  to  approach  in  united  extent,  grandeur,  and 
most  consummate  beauty,  this  almost  more  than  work 
of  man.  On  each  side  of  this,  the  central  point,  there 
rose  upward  slender  pyramids — pointed  obelisks — 
domes  of  the  most  graceful  proportions,  columns,  arches, 


ZEN06IA.  25 

* 

and  lofty  towers,  for  number  and  for  form,  beyond 
my  power  to  describe.  These  buildings,  as  well  as 
the  walls  of  the  city,  being  all  either  of  white  marble, 
or  of  some  stone  as  white,  and  being  every  where  in 
their  whole  extent  interspersed,  as  I  have  already  said, 
with  multitudes  of  overshadowing  palm  trees,  perfectly 
filled  and  satisfied  my  sense  of  beauty,  and  made  me 
feel  for  the  moment,  as  if  in  such  a  scene  I  should  love 
to  dwell,  and  there  end  my  days.  Nor  was  I  alone  in 
these  transports  of  delight.  All  my  fellow-travellers 
seemed  equally  affected :  and  from  the  native  Palmy- 
renes,  of  whom  there  were  many  among  us,  the  most 
impassioned  and  boastful  exclamations  broke  forth. 
*  What  is  Rome  to  this  ?'  they  cried :  '  Fortune  is  not 
constant.  Why  may  not  Palmyra  be  what  Rome  has 
been — mistress  of  the  world  ?  Who  more  fit  to  rule 
than  the  great  Zenobia  ?  A  few  years  may  see  great 
changes.  Who  can  tell  what  shall  come  to  pass?' 
These,  and  many  such  sayings,  were  uttered  by  those 
around  me,  accompanied  by  many  significant  gestures 
and  glances  of  the  eye.  I  thought  of  them  afterward. 
We  now  descended  the  hill,  and  the  long  line  of  our 
caravan  moved  on  toward  the  city. 


VOL.   I. 


26  ZE  NO  Bl  A 


LETTER    II. 

I  FEAR  lest  the  length  of  my  first  letter  may  have 
fatigued  you,  my  Curtius,  knowing  as  I  so  well  do, 
how  you  esteem  brevity.  I  hope  at  this  time  not  to  try 
your  patience.  But,  however  I  may  weary  or  vex  you 
by  my  garrulity,  I  am  sure  of  a  patient  and  indulgent 
reader  in  the  dear  Lucilia,  to  whom  I  would  now  first 
of  all  commend  myself.  I  salute  her,  and  with  her 
the  little  Gallus.  My  writing  to  you  is  a  sufficient 
proof  that  I  myself  am  well. 

By  reason  of  our  delaying  so  long  on  that  little  hill, 
and  at  other  points,  for  the  sake  of  drinking  in  full 
draughts  of  the  unrivalled  beauty  which  lay  spread 
over  all  the  scenery  within  the  scope  of  our  vision,  we 
did  not  approach  the  walls  of  the  city  till  the  last  rays 
of  the  sun  were  lingering  upon  the  higher  buildings  of 
the  capital.  This  rendered  every  object  so  much  the 
more  beautiful ;  for  a  flood  of  golden  light,  of  a  richer 
hue,  it  seemed  to  me,  than  our  sun  ever  sheds  upon 
Rome,  rolled  over  the  city,  and  plain,  and  distant 
mountains,  giving  to  the  whole  a  gorgeousness  alto 
gether  beyond  any  thing  I  ever  saw  before,  and  agreeing 
well  with  all  my  impressions  of  oriental  magnificence. 
It  was  seen  under  the  right  aspect.  Not  one  expecta 
tion  was  disappointed  but  rather  exceeded  as  we  came 
in  sight  of  the  vast  walls  of  the  city,  and  of  the  '  Ro 
man  Gate' — so  it  is  called — through  which  we  were 
to  make  our  entrance.  It  was  all  upon  the  grandest 
scale.  The  walls  were  higher,  and  more  frequently 


ZE  NOBI  A  .  27 

defended  by  square  massy  towers  springing  out  of  them, 
than  those  of  Rome.  The  towers,  which  on  either 
side  flanked  the  gateway,  and  which  were  connected 
by  an  immense  arch  flung  from  one  to  the  other,  were 
particularly  magnificent.  No  sooner  had  we  passed 
through,  than  we  found  ourselves  in  a  street  lined  as 
it  were  with  palaces.  It  was  of  great  width — we  have 
no  street  like  it  in  this  respect — of  an  exact  level,  and 
stretched  onward  farther  than  the  eye  could  distinctly 
reach,  being  terminated  by  another  gate  similar  to  that 
by  which  we  had  entered.  The  buildings  on  either 
side  were  altogether  of  marble,  of  Grecian  design — 
the  city  is  filled  with  Greek  artists  of  every  descrip 
tion — frequently  adorned  with  porticos  of  the  most  rich 
and  costly  construction  and  by  long  ranges  of  private 
dwellings,  interrupted  here  and  there  by  temples  of 
religion,  edifices  of  vast  extent  belonging  to  the  state, 
or  by  gardens  attached  to  the  residences  of  the  luxu 
rious  Palmyrene  nobility. 

'  It  is  well  for  Palmyra,'  here  muttered  my  slave 
Milo,  '  that  the  Emperor  has  never,  like  us,  travelled 
this  way.' 

'  Why  so,  Milo  ?'  said  I. 

*  I  simply  think,'  rejoined  he,  '  that  he  would  burn 
it  down ;  and  it  were  a  pity  so  many  fine  buildings 
should  be 'destroyed.  Was  there  not  once  a  place 
called  Carthage  ?  I  have  heard  it  said  that  it  was  as 
large  as  Rome,  and  as  well  garnished  with  temples, 
and  that  for  that  reason  the  Romans  'blotted  it  out.' 
The  people  here  may  thank  the  desert  which  we  have 
crossed,  that  they  are  not  as  Carthage.  Aurelian,  I 
trow,  little  dreams  what  glory  is  to  be  won  here  in  the 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

East,  or  else  he  would  not  waste  his  time  upon  the 
savage  Goths.' 

'  The  Romans  are  no  longer  barbarians,'  I  replied, 
*  as  they  were  once.  They  build  up  now,  instead  of 
demolishing.  Remember  that  Augustus  rebuilt  Car 
thage,  and  that  the  first  Antonine  founded  that  huge 
and  beautiful  temple  which  rose  out  of  the  midst  of 
Baalbec  ;  and  besides — if  I  am  not  mistaken — many 
of  the  noblest  monuments  of  art  in  this  very  city  are 
the  fruit  of  his  munificence.' 

'Gods,  what  a  throng  is  here  ! '  ejaculated  Milo,  little 
heeding,  apparently,  what  I  had  said  ;  '  how  are  we  to 
get  our  beasts  along  ?  They  pay  no  more  regard  to 
us,  either,  than  if  we  were  not  Romans.  Could  any 
one  have  believed  that  a  people  existed  of  such  strange 
customs  and  appearance  ?  What  carriages  ! — what 
wagons  ! — what  animals  ! — what  fantastical  attire  ! — 
and  from  every  corner  of  the  earth,  too,  as  it  would 
seem  !  But  it  is  a  pretty  sight.  Pity  though  but  they 
could  move  as  quick,  as  they  look  well.  Fellow,  there ! 
you  will  gratify  us  if  you  will  start  your  camels  a  little 
out  of  our  way.  We  wish  to  make  toward  the  house 
of  Gracchus,  and  we  cannot  pass  you.' 

The  rider  of  the  camel  turned  round  his  turbaned 
head,  and  fixing  upon  Milo  a  pair  of  fierce  eyes,  bade 
him  hold  his  peace  : 

*  Did  he  not  see  the  street  was  crowded?' 

'  I  see  it  is  filled  with  a  set  of  dull  idlers,'  replied 
Milo,  'who  want  nothing  but  Roman  rods  to  teach  them 
a  quick  and  wholesome  movement.  Friend,  lend  me 
thy  cudgel ;  and  I  will  engage  to  set  thy  beasts  and 
thee  too  in  motion.  If  not,  consider  that  we  are  new 


ZENOBIA.  29 

comers,  and  Romans  withal,  and  that  we  deserve  some 
regard.' 

'  Romans  ! '  screamed  he :  '  may  curses  light  on  you 
You  swarrn  here  like  locusts,  and  like  them  you  come 
but  to  devour.  Take  my  counsel :  turn  your  faces  the 
other  way,  and  off  to  the  desert  again  !  I  give  you  no 
welcome,  for  one.  Now  pass  on — if  on  you  still  will 
go — and  take  the  curse  of  Hassan  the  Arab  along  with 
you.' 

'  Milo,'  said  I,  'have  a  care  how  you  provoke  these 
Orientals.  Bethink  yourself  that  we  are  not  now  in 
the  streets  of  Rome.  Bridle  your  tongue  betimes,  or 
your  head  may  roll  off  your  shoulders  before  you  can 
have  time  to  eat  your  words  to  save  it.' 

'I  am  a  slave  indeed,'  answered  Milo,  with  some 
dignity  for  him,  '  but  I  eat  other  food  than  my  own 
words.  In  that  there  hangs  something  of  the  Roman 
about  me.' 

We  were  now  opposite  what  I  discovered,  from  the 
statues  and  emblems  upon  it  and  surrounding  it,  to  be 
the  Temple  of  Justice,  and  I  knew  therefore  that  the 
palace  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  adorned  with 
porticos,  and  partly  hidden  among  embowering  trees 
and  shrubs,  must  be  the  dwelling  of  Gracchus. 

We  turned  down  into  a  narrower  street,  and  after 
proceeding*  a  little  way,  passed  under  a  massy  arched 
gateway,  and  found  ourselves  in  the  spacious  court 
yard  of  this  princely  mansion.  Slaves  soon  surround 
ed  us,  and  by  their  alacrity  in  assisting  me  to  dismount, 
and  in  performing  every  office  of  a  hospitable  reception, 
showed  that  we  were  expected  guests,  and  that  my 
letters  announcing  my  intended  visit  had  been  received. 


30  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

Leaving  my  slaves  and  effects  to  the  care  of  the  ser 
vants  of  the  house,  I  followed  one  who  seemed  to  be  a 
sort  of  head  among  them,  through  walks  bordered  with 
the  choicest  trees,  flowers  and  shrubs,  opening  here 
and  there  in  the  most  graceful  manner  to  reveal  a  statue 
of  some  sylvan  god  reclining  under  the  shade,  and 
soon  reached  the  rear  of  the  house,  which  I  entered  by 
a  flight  of  marble  steps.  Through  a  lofty  hall  I  passed 
into  a  saloon  which  seemed  the  reception-room  of  the 
palace,  where  I  had  hardly  arrived,  and  obtained  one 
glance  at  my  soiled  dress  and  sun-burnt  visage  in  the 
mirror,  than  my  ear  caught  the  quick  sound  of  a  female 
foot  hastening  over  the  pavement  of  the  hall,  and  turn 
ing  suddenly  I  caught  in  my  arms  the  beautiful  Fausta. 
It  was  well  for  me  that  I  was  so  taken  by  surprise,  for 
I  acted  naturally,  which  I  fear  I  should  not  have  done 
if  I  had  had  a  moment  to  deliberate  before  I  met  her; 
for  she  is  no  longer  a  girl,  as  in  Rome,  running  and 
jumping  after  her  slave  to  school,  but  a  nearly  full- 
grown  woman,  and  of  a  beauty  so  imposing  as  might 
well  cause  embarrassment  in  a  youth  of  even  more 
pretensions  than  myself. 

'  Are  you  indeed,'  said  I,  retaining  each  hand  in 
mine,  but  feeling  that  in  spite  of  all  my  assumed  cour 
age  I  was  covered  with  blushes,  *  are  you  indeed  the 
little  Fausta?  Truly  there  must  be  marvellous  vir 
tues  in  the  air  of  Palmyra.  It  is  but  six  years  since 
you  left  Rome,  and  then,  as  I  remember — shall  I  men 
tion  such  a  thing? — you  were  but  twelve,  and  now 
though  but' 

'  0,'  cried  she,  '  never  begin  such  a  speech !  it  will 
only  trouble  you  before  you  can  end  it.  How  glad  I 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  31 

am  to  see  you  !  Welcome,  dear  Lucius,  to  Palmyra  ! 
If  open  hearts  can  make  you  happy  here,  you  will  not 
fail  to  be  so.  But  how  did  you  leave  all  in  Rome  2 
First,  your  friend  Marcus?  and  Lucilia?  and  the  no 
ble,  good  Portia  ?  Ah  !  how  happy  were  those  days 
in  Rome  !  Come  sit  on  these  cushions  by  this  open 
window.  But  more  than  all,  how  does  the  dear  peda 
gogue  and  dialectician,  the  learned  Solon  ?  Is  he  as 
wise  yet  as  his  great  namesake  ?  O  what  days  of 
merriment  have  his  vanity  and  simplicity  afforded  me  ! 
But  he  was  a  good  soul.  Would  he  could  have  ac 
companied  you.  You  are  not  so  far  out  of  leading- 
strings  that  you  could  not  have  taken  him  with  you  as 
a  travelling  Mentor.  In  truth,  nothing  could  have 
given  me  more  pleasure.' 

*  I  came  away  in  great  haste,  dear  Fausta,'  said  I, 
*  with  scarce  a  moment  for  preparation  of  any  kind. 
You  have  but  this  morning  received  my  letter,  which 
was  but  part  of  a  day  in  advance  of  me.  If  I  could 
have  done  it,  I  should  have  given  you  more  timely 
notice.  I  could  not  therefore  look  out  for  companions 
for  the  way.  It  would  however  have  been  a  kindness 
to  Solon,  and  a  pleasure  to  me.  But  why  have  I  not 
before  asked  for  your  father?  is  not  Gracchus  at 
home  ? — and  is  he  well  ? ' 

'  He  is  at*  home,  or  rather  he  is  in  the  city,'  replied 
Fausta, '  and  why  he  makes  it  so  late  before  returning, 
I  cannot  tell :  but  you  will  soon  see  him.  In  the  mean 
time,  let  my  slaves  show  you  where  to  find  your  rooms, 
that  you  may  rest  and  prepare  for  supper.' 

So  saying,  she  clapped  her  hands,  and  a  tall  Ethiopian, 
with  a  turban  as  white  as  his  face  was  black,  quickly 
made  his  appearance  and  took  me  in  his  charge. 


32  ZE  NOBIA. 

*  Look  well  after  your  toilet,'  cried  Fausta,  laughing 
as  I  left  the  room ;  '  we  think  more  of  costume  here 
than  they  do  in  Rome.' 

I  followed  my  dark  conductor  through  many  passages 
to  a  distant  part  of  the  building,  where  I  found  apart 
ments  furnished  with  every  luxury,  and  already  pre 
pared  for  my  use. 

'  Here  I  have  carefully  placed  your  baggage,'  said 
the  slave  as  I  entered  the  room,  '  and  whatever  else  I 
thought  you  might  need.  Call  Hannibal  when  you 
wish  for  my  services  ;  I  am  now  yours.  This  door 
leads  to  a  small  room  where  will  lodge  your  own  slave 
Milo;  the  others  are  in  the  stables.'  Thus  delivering 
himself,  he  departed. 

The  windows  of  my  apartment  opened  upon  the  wide 
street  by  which  we  had  entered  the  city,  not  imme 
diately,  but  first  upon  a  border  of  trees  and  flowers, 
then  upon  a  low  wall,  here  and  there  crowned  with  a 
statue  or  a  vase,  which  separated  the  house  from 
the  street,  and  last  upon  the  street  itself,  its  busy 
throngs  and  noble  structures.  I  stood  for  a  moment 
enjoying  the  scene,  rendered  more  impressive  by  the  dim 
but  still  glowing  light  of  the  declining  day.  Sounds 
of  languages  which  I  knew  not  fell  upon  my  ear,  sent 
forth  by  those  who  urged  along  through  the  crowds 
their  cattle,  or  by  those  who  would  draw  attention  to 
the  articles  which  they  had  to  sell.  All  was  new  and 
strange,  and  tended,  together  with  my  reflections  upon 
the  business  which  had  borne  me  so  far  from  my  home 
and  you,  to  fill  me  with  melancholy.  I  was  roused 
from  my  reverie  by  the  voice  of  Milo. 

'  If,'  said  he,  '  the  people  of  these  eastern  regions 
understand  better  than  we  of  Rome  the  art  of  taking  off 


ZENOB1A.  33 

heads,  they  certainly  understand  better,  as  in  reason 
they  should,  the  art  of  making  them  comfortable  while 
they  are  on  :  already  I  have  taken  a  longer  draught  at 
a  wine  skin  than  I  have  been  blessed  with  since  I  was 
in  the  service  of  the  most  noble  Gallienus.  Ah,  that 
was  life !  He  was  your  true  philosopher  who  thought 
life  made  for  living.  These  Palmyrenes  seem  of  his 
school.' 

'  Leave  philosophy,  good  Milo,  and  come  help  me 
dress  ;  that  is  the  matter  now  in  hand.  Unclasp  these 
trunks  and  find  something  that  shall  not  deform  me.' 

So  desirous  was  I,  you  perceive,  to  appear  well  in 
the  eyes  of  the  fair  Fausta. 

It  was  now  the  appointed  hour  to  descend  to  the 
supper  room,  and  as  I  was  about  to  leave  my  apartment, 
hardly  knowing  which  way  to  move,  the  Ethiopian, 
Hannibal,  made  his  appearance,  to  serve  as  my  con 
ductor. 

I  was  ushered  into  an  apartment,  not  large,  but  of 
exquisite  proportions — circular,  and  of  the  most  perfect 
architecture,  on  the  Greek  principles.  The  walls, 
thrown  into  panels  between  the  windows  and  doors, 
were  covered  with  paintings,  admirable  both  for  their 
design  and  color ;  and  running  all  around  the  room, 
and  attached  to  the  walls,  was  a  low  and  broad  seat, 
covered  with  cushions  of  the  richest  workmanship  and 
material.  A  lofty  and  arched  ceiling,  lighted  by  invi 
sible  lamps,  represented  a  banquet  of  the  gods,  offering 
to  those  seated  at  the  tables  below  a  high  example  of 
the  manner  in  which  the  divine  gifts  should  be  enjoyed. 
This  evening,  at  least,  we  did  not  use  the  privileges 
which  that  high  example  sanctioned.  Fausta  was 
VOL.  i.  4 


34  ZE  NOBIA. 

already  in  the  room,  and  rose  with  affectionate  haste 
to  greet  me  again. 

'  I  fear  my  toilet  has  not  been  very  successful,  Fausta,' 
said  I,  'for  my  slave  Milo  was  too  much  elated  by  the 
generous  wines  with  which  his  companions  had  plied 
him,  as  a  cordial  after  the  fatigues  of  the  journey,  to 
give  me  any  of  the  benefit  of  his  taste  or  assistance. 
I  have  been  my  own  artificer  on  this  occasion,  and  you 
must  therefore  be  gentle  in  your  judgments.' 

1 1  cannot  say  that  your  fashions  are  equally  tasteful 
with  those  of  our  Palmyrenes,  I  must  confess.  The 
love  of  the  beautiful,  the  magnificent,  and  the  luxurious, 
is  our  national  fault,  Lucius  ;  it  betrays  itself  in  every 
department  of  civil  and  social  life,  and  not  unfrequeritly 
declines  into  a  degrading  effeminacy.  If  any  thing 
ruin  us,  it  will  be  this  vice.  I  assure  you  I  was  rather 
jesting  than  in  earnest,  when  I  bade  you  look  to  your 
toilet.  When  you  shall  have  seen  some  of  our  young 
nobles,  you  will  find  reason  to  be  proud  of  your  com 
parative  simplicity.  I  hear,  however,  that  you  are  not 
now  far  behind  us  in  Rome — nay,  in  many  excesses, 
you  go  greatly  beyond  us.  We  have  never  yet  had  a 
Vitellius,  a  Pollio,  or  a  Gallienus.  And  may  the 
sands  of  the  desert  bury  us  a  thousand  fathoms  deep, 
ere  such  monsters  shall  be  bred  and  endured  in  Pal 
myra  ! ' 

'  I  perceive,'  said  I,  '  that  your  sometime  residence 
in  Rome  has  not  taught  you  to  love  your  native  coun 
try  less.  If  but  a  small  portion  of  the  fire  which  I  see 
burning  in  your  eye  warm  the  hearts  of  the  people,  it 
will  be  no  easy  matter  for  any  external  foe  to  subdue 
you,  however  vice  and  luxury  may  do  it.' 


ZE  NOBIA.  35 

*  There  are  not  many,  I  believe,'  replied  Fausta, '  of 
your  or  my  sex  in  Palmyra,  who  would  with  more 
alacrity  lay  down  their  lives  for  their  country  and  our 
sweet  and  noble  Queen,  than  I.  But  believe  me,  Lu 
cius,  there  are  multitudes  who  would  do  it  as  soon. 
Zenobia  will  lead  the  way  to  no  battle-field  where 
Fausta,  girl  though  she  be,  will  not  follow.  Remem- 
,ber  what  I  say,  I  pray  you,  if  difficulty  should  ever 
again  grow  up — which"  the  gods  forefend  ! — between 
us  and  Rome.  But,  truth  to  say,  we  are  in  more  dan 
ger  from  ourselves  than  from  Rome.' 

We  were  now  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  loud  and 
cheerful  voice  of  Gracchus,  exclaiming,  as  he  ap 
proached  us  from  the  great  hall  of  the  palace,  '  How 
now ! — How  now  ! — whom  have  we  here  ?  Are  my 
eyes  and  ears  true  to  their  report — Lucius  Piso  ?  It  is 
he  indeed.  Thrice  welcome  to  Palmyra  !  May  a  visit 
from  so  good  and  great  a  house  be  an  augury  of  good. 
You  are  quick  indeed  upon  the  track  of  your  letter. 
How  have  you  sped  by  the  way  ?  I  need  not  ask  after 
your  own  welfare,  for  I  see  it,  but  I  am  impatient  to 
learn  all  that  you  can  tell  me  of  friends  and  enemies 
in  Rome.  I  dare  say,  all  this  has  been  once  told  to 
Fausta,  but,  as  a  penalty  for  arriving  while  I  was  ab 
sent,  it  must  be  repeated  for  my  special  pleasure.  But 
come,  that  can  be  done  while  we  sit  at  table ;  I  see  the 
supper  waits.' 

In  this  pleasant  mood  did  the  father  of  Fausta,  and 
now,  as  you  know,  one  of  the  chief  pillars  of  the  pro 
vince  or  kingdom — whichever  it  must  be  called — re 
ceive  me.  I  was  struck  with  the  fine  union  in  his 
appearance  and  manner  of  courtly  ease,  and  a  noble 


36  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

Roman  frankness.  His  head,  slightly  bald,  but  cast  in 
the  truest  mould  of  manly  beauty,  would  have  done 
honor  to  any  of  his  illustrious  ancestors ;  and  his  figure 
was  entirely  worthy  of  that  faultless  crown.  I  confess 
I  experienced  a  pang  of  regret  that  one  so  fitted  to  sus 
tain  and  adorn  the  greatness  of  his  parent  country  had  / 
chosen  to  cast  his  fortunes  so  far  from  the  great  centre 
and  heart  of  the  Empire.  After  the  first  duties  of  the 
table  had  been  gone  through  with,  and  my  hunger — 
real  hunger — had  been  appeased  by  the  various  delica 
cies  which  my  kind  hostess  urged  upon  me  noways 
unwilling  to  receive  such  tokens  of  regard,  I  took  up 
the  questions  of  Gracchus,  and  gave  him  a  full  account 
of  our  social  and  political  state  in  Rome,  to  all  which 
Fausta  too  lent  a  greedy  ear,  her  fine  face  sparkling 
with  the  intelligence  which  beamed  out  from  every 
feature.  It  was  easy  to  see  how  deep  an  interest  she 
takes  in  matters  to  which  her  sex  are  usually  so  insen 
sible.  It  is  indescribable,  the  imperial  pride  and  lofty 
spirit  of  independence  which  at  times  sat  upon  her 
brow  and  curled  her  lip.  She  seems  to  me  made  to 
command.  She  is  indeed  courteous  and  kind,  but  you 
not  with  difficulty  see  that  she  is  bold,  aspiring  and 
proud,  beyond  the  common  measure  of  woman.  Her 
beauty  is  of  this  character.  It  is  severe,  rather  than 
in  any  senst>  soft  or  feminine.  Her  features  are  those 
of  her  father,  truly  Roman  in  their  outline,  and  their 
combined  expression  goes  to  impress  every  beholder 
with  the  truth  that  Roman  blood  alone,  and  that  too  of 
all  the  Gracchi,  runs  in  her  veins.  Her  form  harmon 
izes  perfectly  with  the  air  and  character  of  the  face. 
It  is  indicative  of  great  vigor  and  decision  in  every 


ZENOBIA.  37 

movement ;  yet  it  is  graceful,  and  of  such  proportions 
as  would  suit  the  most  fastidious  Greek.  I  am  thus 
minute  in  telling  you  how  Fausta  struck  me,  hecause  I 
know  the  interest  you  and  Lucilia  both  take  in  her,  and 
how  you  will  desire  to  have  from  me  as  exact  a  picture 
as  I  can  draw.  Be  relieved,  my  dear  friends,  as  to  the 
state  of  my  heart,  nor  indulge  in  either  hopes  or  suspi 
cions  in  this  direction.  I  assure  you  I  am  not  yet  a 
captive  at  the  fair  feet  of  Fausta,  nor  do  I  think  I  shall 
be.  But  if  such  a  thing  should  happen,  depend  upon 
my  friendship  to  give  you  the  earliest  intelligence  of 
the  event.  Whoever  shall  obtain  the  heart  of  Fausta, 
will  win  one  of  which  a  Caesar  might  be  proud.  But 
to  return  to  our  present  interview  and  its  event. 

No  sooner  had  I  ended  my  account  of  the  state  of 
affairs  at  Rome,  than  Gracchus  expressed,  in  the  strong 
est  terms,  his  joy  that  we  were  so  prosperous.  *  It 
agrees,'  said  he,  *  with  all  that  we  have  lately  heard. 
Aurelian  is  in  truth  entitled  to  the  praise  which  be 
longs  to  a  reformer  of  the  state.  The  army  has  not 
been  under  such  discipline  since  the  days  of  Vespa 
sian.  He  has  now,  as  we  learn  by  the  last  arrival  of 
news  from  the  North,  by  the  way  of  Antioch,  nearly 
completed  the  subjection  of  the  Goths  and  Alemanni, 
and  rumors  are  afloat  of  an  unpleasant  nature,  of  an 
Eastern  expedition.  For  this  no  ground  occurs  to  me 
except,  possibly,  an  attempt  upon  Persia,  for  the  rescue 
of  Valerian,  if  yet  he  be  living,  or  for  the  general  vin 
dication  of  the  honor  of  Rome  against  the  disgraceful 
successes  of  the  Great  King.  I  cannot  for  one  moment 
believe  that  toward  Palmyra  any  other  policy  will  be 
adopted  than  that  which  has  been  pursued  for  the  last 
VOL.  i.  4* 


38  ZE  N  OB  1  A. 

century  and  a  half,  and  emphatically  sanctioned,  as 
you  well  know,  by  both  Gallienus  and  Claudius. 
Standing  on  the  honorable  footing,  as  nominally  a  part 
of  the  empire  of  Rome,  but  in  fact  a^oveietgn  arid  in 
dependent  power,  we  enjoy  all  that  we  can  desire  in 
the  form  of  political  privileges.  Then  for  our  com 
merce,  it  could  not  be  more  flourishing,  or  conducted 
on  more  advantageous  terms  even  to  Rome  itself.  In 
one  word,  we  are  contented,  prosperous,  and  happy, 
and  the  crime  of  that  man  would  be  great  indeed,  who, 
from  any  motive  of  personal  ambition,  or  any  policy  of 
state,  would  disturb  our  existing  relations  of  peace  and 
friendship  with  all  the  world.' 

To  this  I  replied :  '  I  most  sincerely  trust  that  no 
design,  such  as  you  hint  at,  exists  in  the  mind  of  Au- 
relian.  I  know  him,  and  know  him  to  be  ambitious 
and  imperious,  as  he  is  great  in  resources  and  une 
qualled  in  military  science,  but  withal  he  is  a  man  of 
wisdom,  and  in  the  main,  of  justice  too.  That  he  is  a 
true  lover  of  his  country,  I  am  sure  ;  and  that  the  glory 
of  that  country  is  dearer  to  him  than  all  other  objects — 
that  it  rises  in  him  almost  to  a  species  of  madness — 
this  I  know  too  ;  and  it  is  from  this  quarter,  if  from 
any,  that  danger  is  to  be  apprehended.  He  will  have 
Rome  to  be  all  in  all.  His  desire  is  that  it  should  once 
more  possess  the  unity  that  it  did  under  the  Antonines. 
This  idea,,  dwelt  upon,  may  lead  him  into  enterprises 
from  which,  however  defended  on  the  ground  of  the 
empire's  glory,  will  result  in  nothing  but  discredit  to 
himself  and  injury  to  the  state.  I  too  have  heard  the 
rumors  of  which  you  speak,  but  I  cannot  give  them  one 
moment's  credence ;  and  I  pray  most  fervently  that, 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  39 

springing  as  they  do  no  one  knows  whence  nor  on 
what  authority  resting,  they  will  not  be  permitted  to 
have  the  least  effect  upon  the  mind  of  the  Queen,  nor 
upon  any  of  her  advisers.  She  is  now  in  reality  an 
independent  sovereign,  reigning  over  an  immense  em 
pire,  stretching  from  Egypt  to  the  shores  of  the  Euxine, 
from  the  Mediterranean  to  the  Euphrates,  and  she  still 
stands  upon  the  records  of  the  senate  as  a  colleague- 
even  as  when  Odenatus  shared  the  throne  with  her — 
of  the  Emperor.  This  is  a  great  and  a  fortunate  posi 
tion.  The  gods  forbid  that  any  intemperance  on  the 
part  of  the  Palmyrenes  should  rouse  the  anger  or  the 
jealousy  of  the  fierce  Aurelian  ! ' 

Could  I  have  said  less  than  this  ?  But  I  saw  in  the 
countenances  of  both,  while  I  was  speaking,  especially 
in  the  honest,  expressive  one  of  Fausta,  that  they  could 
brook  no  hint  of  inferiority  or  of  dependence  on  the 
part  of  their  country ;  so  deep  a  place  has  the  great 
Zenobia  secured  for  herself  in  the  pride  and  most 
sacred  affections  of  this  people. 

'  I  will  not,  with  you,  Piso,'  said  Gracchus, '  believe 
that  the  Emperor  will  do  aught  to  break  up  the  present 
harmony.  1  will  have  faith  in  him  ;  and  I  shall  use 
ail  the  influence  that  I  may  possess  in  the  affairs  of 
the  state  to  infuse  a  spirit  of  moderation  into  our  acts, 
and  above  all  into  our  language  ;  for  one  hasty  word 
uttered  in  certain  quarters  may  lead  to  the  ruin  of 
kingdoms  that  have  taken  centuries  to  attain  their 
growth.  But  this  I  say:  let  there  only  come  over 
here  from  the  West  the  faintest  whisper  of  any  pur 
pose  on  the  part  of  Aurelian  to  consider  Zenobia  as 
holding  the  same  position  in  regard  to  Rome  as  Tetri- 


40  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

cus  in  Gaul,  and  that  moment  a  flame  is  kindled 
throughout  Palmyra  that  nothing  but  blood  can  quench. 
This  people,  as  you  well  know,  has  been  a  free  people 
from  the  earliest  records  of  history,  and  they  will  sink 
under  the  ruins  of  their  capital  and  their  country,  ere 
they  will  bend  to  a  foreign  power.' 

*  That  will  they ! — that  will  they,  indeed  !  *  cried 
Fausta ;  *  there  is  not  a  Palmyrene  who,  had  he  two 
lives,  would  not  give  one  for  liberty,  and  the  other  for 
his  good  Queen.  You  do  not  know  Zenobia,  Lucius, 
nor  can  you  tell,  therefore,  how  reasonable  the  affection 
is  which  binds  every  heart  to  her  as  to  a  mother  or  a 
sister.' 

'  But  enough  of  this  for  the  present,'  said  Gracchus; 
*  let  us  leave  the  affairs  of  nations,  and  ascend  to  those 
of  private  individuals — for  I  suppose  your  philosophy 
teaches  you,  as  it  does  me,  that  individual  happiness 
is  the  object  for  which  governments  are  instituted,  and 
that  they  are  therefore  less  than  this.  Let  us  ascend, 
I  say,  from  the  policy  of  Rome  and  of  Aurelian,  to  the 
private  affairs  of  our  friend  Lucius  Piso;  for  your  letter 
gives  me  the  privilege  of  asking  you  to  tell  us,  in  all 
frankness  and  love,  what,  beside  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
us,  brings  you  so  far  from  Rome.  It  is,  you  hint,  a 
business  of  a  painful  nature.  Use  me  and  Fausta,  as 
you  would  in  Rome  Portia  and  the  good  Lucilia, 
with  the  same  freedom  and  the  same  assurance  of  our 
friendship.' 

'  Do  so,  indeed,'  added  Fausta,  with  affectionate 
warmth,  *  and  feel  that,  in  addressing  us,  you  are  en 
trusting  your  thoughts  to  true  and  long-tried  friends.' 

1 1  have,'  replied  I,   '  but  little  to  communicate,  but 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  41 

that  little  is  great  in  its  interest,  and  demands  immedi 
ate  action ;  and  touching  what  shall  be  most  expedient 
to  be  done,  I  shall  want  and  shall  ask  your  deliberate 
counsel.  You  are  well  aware,  alas  !  too  well  aware, 
of  the  cruel  fate  of  my  parent,  the  truly  great  Cneius 
Piso,  whom  to  name  is  always  a  spring  of  strength  to 
my  virtues.  With  the  unhappy  Valerian,  to  whom  he 
clung  to  the  last,  resolved  to  die  with  him,  or  suffer 
with  him  whatever  the  fates  should  decree,  he  passed 
into  captivity ;  but  of  too  proud  a  spirit  to  endure  the 
indignities  which  were  heaped  upon  the  Emperor,  and 
which  were  threatened  him,  he — so  we  have  learned — 
destroyed  himself.  He  found  an  opportunity,  however, 
before  he  thus  nobly  used  his  power,  to  exhort  my  poor 
brothers  not  at  once,  at  least,  to  follow  his  example. 
'  You  are  young,'  said  he,  *  and  have  more  strength 
than  I,  and  the  gods  may  interpose  and  deliver  you. 
Hope  dwells  with  youth,  as  it  dies  with  age.  Do  not 
despair.  I  feel  that  you  will  one  day  return  to  Rome. 
For  myself,  I  am  a  decayed  trunk,  at  best,  and  it 
matters  little  when  I  fall,  or  where  I  lie.  One  thing, 
at  least,  I  cannot  bear ;  it  would  destroy  me  if  I  did 
not  destroy  myself.  I  am  a  Roman  and  a  Piso,  and 
the  foot  of  a  Persian  shall  never  plant  itself  upon  my 
neck.  I  die.'  My  elder  brother,  thinking  example  a 
more  powerful  kind  of  precept  than  words,  no  sooner 
was  assured  of  the  death  of  his  father,  than  he  too 
opened  his  veins,  and  perished.  And  so  we  learned 
had  Calpurnius  done,  and  we  were  comparatively 
happy  in  the  thought  that  they  had  escaped  by  a  vol 
untary  death  the  shame  of  being  used  as  footstools  by 
the  haughty  Sapor,  and  the  princes  of  his  court.  But 


42  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

a  rumor  reached  us  a  few  days  before  I  left  Rome,  that 
Calpurnius  is  yet  living.  We  learn,  obscurely,  that 
being  favorably  distinguished  and  secretly  favored  by 
the  son  of  Sapor,  he  was  persuaded  to  live,  and  wait 
for  the  times  to  open  a  way  for  his  escape.  You  may 
imagine  both  my  grief  and  my  joy  on  this  intelligence. 
The  thought  that  he  should  so  long  have  lain  in  cap 
tivity  and  imprisonment,  and  no  step  have  been  taken 
toward  his  rescue,  has  weighed  upon  me  with  a  moun 
tain  weight  of  sorrow.  Yet  at  the  same  time,  I  have 
been  supported  by  the  hope  that  his  deliverance  may 
be  effected,  and  that  he  may  return  to  Rome  once  more, 
to  glad  the  eyes  of  the  aged  Portia.  It  is  this  hope 
which  has  brought  me  to  Palmyra,  as  perhaps  the  best 
point  whence  to  set  in  motion  the  measures  which  it 
shall  be  thought  wisest  to  adopt.  I  shall  rely  much 
upon  your  counsel.'  No  sooner  had  I  spoken  thus, 
than  Fausta  quickly  exclaimed  : 

'  0  father,  how  easily,  were  the  Queen  now  in  Pal 
myra,  might  we  obtain  through  her  the  means  of 
approaching  the  Persian  King  with  some  hope  of  a 

successful  appeal  to  his  compassion! — and  yet' 

She  hesitated  and  paused. 

'  I  perceive,'  said  Gracchus,  '  what  it  is  that  checks 
your  speech.  You  feel  that  in  this  matter  Zenobia 
would  have  no  power  with  the  Persian  monarch  or 
court.  The  two  nations  are  now,  it  is  true,  upon 
friendly  terms  ;  but  a  deep  hatred  exists  in  the  heart  of 
Sapor  toward  Zenobia.  The  successive  defeats  which 
he  suffered,  when  Odenatus  and  his  Queen  took  it  upon 
them  to  vindicate  the  honor  of  Rome,  and  revenge  the 
foul  indignities  cast  upon  the  unfortunate  Valerian, 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  43 

will  never  be  forgotten  ;  and  policy  only,  not  love  or 
regard,  keeps  the  peace  between  Persia  and  Palmyra. 
Sapor  fears  the  power  of  Zenobia,  supported,  as  he 
knows  she  would  be  in  case  of  rupture,  by  the  strength 
of  Rome  ;  and  moreover,  he  is  well  aware  that  Palmyra 
serves  as  a  protecting  wall  between  him  and  Rome, 
and  that  her  existence  as  an  independent  power  is  vital 
to  the  best  interests  of  his  kingdom.  For  these  reasons 
harmony  prevails,  and  in  the  event  of  war  between  us 
and  Rome,  we  might  with  certainty  calculate  upon 
Persia  as  an  ally.  Still  Sapor  is  an  enemy  at  heart. 
His  pride,  humbled  as  it  was  by  that  disastrous  rout, 
when  his  whole  camp  and  even  his  wives  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Royal  Odenatus,  will  never  recover  from 
the  wound,  and  will  prompt  to  acts  of  retaliation  and 
revenge,  rather  than  to  any  deed  of  kindness.  While 
his  public  policy  is,  and  doubtless  will  continue  to  be, 
pacific,  his  private  feelings  are,  and  ever  will  be,  bitter. 
1  see  not  how  in  this  business  we  can  rely  with  any 
hope  of  advantage  upon  the  interposition  of  the  Queen. 
If  your  brother  is  ever  rescued,  it  must,  I  think,  be 
achieved  by  private  enterprise.' 

'  Your  words,'  said  I,  '  have  pierced  me  through 
with  grief,  and  dispelled  in  a  moment  the  brightest 
visions.  All  the  way  from  Rome  have  I  been  cheered 
by  the  hope  of  what  the  Queen,  at  your  solicitation, 
would  be  able  to  attempt  and  accomplish  in  my  behalf. 
But  it  is  all  over.  I  feel  the  truth  of  what  you  have 
urged.  I  see  it — I  now  see  it — private  enterprise  can 
alone  effect  his  deliverance,  and  from  this  moment  I 
devote  myself  to  that  work.  If  Rome  leave  her  Em 
peror  to  die  in  captivity,  so  will  not.  I  my  brother.  I 


44  X  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

will  go  myself  to  the  den  of  this  worse  than  barbarian 
king,  and  bring  thence  the  loved  Calpurnius,  or  leave 
my  own  body  there  for  that  beast  to  batten  on.  It  is 
now  indeed  thirteen  years  since  Calpurnius  left  me,  a 
child  in  Rome,  to  join  the  Emperor  in  that  ill-fated 
expedition.  But  it  is  with  the  distinctness  of  a  yes 
terday's  vision  that  he  now  stands  before  my  eyes,  as 
he  then  stood  that  day  he  parted  from  us,  glittering  in 
his  brilliant  armor,  and  his  face  just  as  brilliant  with 
the  light  of  a  great  and  trusting  spirit.  As  he  turned 
from  the  last  embraces  of  the  weeping  Portia,  he  seized 
me  in  his  arms,  who  stood  jingling  his  sword  against 
his  iron  greaves,  and  imprinting  upon  my  cheek  a 
kiss,  bade  me  grow  a  man  at  once,  to  take  care  of  the 
household,  while  they  were  gone  with  the  good  Em 
peror  to  fight  the  enemies  of  Rome  in  Asia.  He  was, 
as  I  remember  him,  of  a  quick  and  fiery  temper,  but 
he  was  always  gentle  toward  me,  and  has  bound  me 
to  him  forever.' 

*  The  gods  prosper  you  ! '  cried  Fausta,  *  as  surely 
they  will.  It  is  a  pious  work  to  which  you  put  your 
hand,  and  you  will  succeed.' 

'  Do  riot,  Fausta,'  said  Gracchus,  *  lend  the  weight 
of  your  voice  to  urge  our  friend  to  measures  which 
may  be  rather  rash  than  wise,  and  may  end  only  in 
causing  a  greater  evil  than  what  already  exists.  Pru 
dence  must  govern  us  as  well  as  affection.  By  ven 
turing  yourself  at  once  into  the  dominion  of  Persia, 
upon  such  an  errand,  it  is  scarcely  less  than  certain 
that  you  would  perish,  and  without  effecting  your 
object.  We  ought  to  consider,  too,  I  think,  what  the 
condition  and  treatment  of  Calpurnius  are,  before  too 


Z  £  N  0  B  I  A  .  45 

great  a  risk  is  incurred  for  his  rescue.  He  has  now, 
we  are  to  remember,  been  at  the  capital  of  the  great 
king  thirteen  years.  You  have  hinted  that  he  had 
been  kindly  regarded  by  the  son  of  Sapor.  Possibly 
his  captivity  amounts  to  no  more  than  a  foreign  resi 
dence — a  sort  of  exile.  Possibly  he  may,  in  this  long 
series  of  years,  have  become  changed  into  a  Persian. 
I  understand  your  little  lip,  Fausta,  and  your  indignant 
frown,  Lucius ;  but  what  I  suggest  is  among  things 
possible,  it  cannot  be  denied  ;  and  can  you  deny  it  ? — 
not  so  very  unlikely,  when  you  think  what  the  feelings 
of  one  must  have  been  to  be  so  wholly  forgotten  and 
abandoned  by  his  native  country,  and  that  country, 
Rome,  the  mistress  of  the  world,  who  needed  but  to 
have  stretched  forth  the  half  of  her  power  to  have 
broken  for  ever  the  chains  of  his  slavery,  as  well  as  of 
the  thousands  who  with  him  have  been  left  to  linger 
out  their  lives  in  bondage.  If  Calpurnius  has  been 
distinguished  by  the  son  of  Sapor,  his  lot,  doubtless, 
has  been  greatly  lightened,  and  he  may  now  be  living 
as  a  Persian  prince.  My  counsel  is,  therefore,  that 
the  truth  in  this  regard  be  first  obtained,  before  the  life 
of  another  son,  and  the  only  inheritor  of  so  great  a 
name,  be  put  in  jeopardy.  But  what  is  the  exact  sum 
of  what  you  have  learned,  and  upon  which  we  may 
rely,  and  from  which  reason  and  act  ? ' 

*  Our  knowledge,'  I  replied,  ( is  derived  from  a  sol 
dier,  who,  by  a  great  and  happy  fortune,  escaped  and 
reached  his  native  Rome.  He  only  knew  what  he  saw 
when  he  was  first  a  captive,  and  afterward,  by  chance, 
had  heard  from  others.  He  was,  he  said,  taken  to 
serve  as  a  slave  about  the  palace  of  the  King,  and  it 
VOL.  i.  5 


46  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

was  there  that  for  a  space  he  was  an  eye-witness  to 
the  cruel  and  insulting  usage  of  both  Valerian  and 
Calpurnius.  That  was  hut  too  true,  he  said,  which 
had  been  reported  to  us,  that  whenever  the  proud  Sapor 
went  forth  to  mount  his  horse,  the  Emperor  was 
brought,  in  the  face  of  the  whole  court,  and  of  the 
populace  who  crowded  round,  to  serve  as  his  footstool. 
Clothed  in  the  imperial  purple,  the  unfortunate  Valerian 
received  upon  his  neck  the  foot  of  Sapor,  and  bore  him 
to  his  saddle.  It  was  the  same  purpose  that  Calpurnius 
was  made  to  serve  for  the  young  prince  Hormisdas. 
But,  said  the  soldier,  the  prince  pitied  the  young  and 
noble  Roman,  and  would  gladly,  at  the  beginning,  have 
spared  him  the  indignity  put  upon  him  by  the  stern 
command  of  his  haughty  and  cruel  father.  He  often 
found  occasion  at  these  times,  while  standing  with  his 
foot  upon  his  neck,  to  speak  with  Calpurnius,  and  to 
express  his  regrets  and  his  grief  for  his  misfortunes, 
and  promise  redress,  and  more,  if  he  ever  came  to  the 
throne.  But  the  soldier  was  soon  removed  from  the 
vicinity  of  the  Royal  palace,  and  saw  no  more  of  either 
Valerian  or  Calpurnius.  What  came  to  his  ears  was, 
generally,  that  while  Valerian  was  retained  exclusively 
for  the  use  of  Sapor,  Calpurnius  was  after  a  time  re 
linquished  as  entirely  into  the  hands  of  Hormisdas,  in 
whose  own  palace  he  dwelt,  but  with  what  portion  of 
freedom,  he  knew  not.  That  he  was  living  at  the  time 
he  escaped,  he  was  certain.  This,  Gracchus,  is  the 
sum  of  what  we  have  heard  ;  in  addition  only,  that  the 
Emperor  sank  under  his  misfortunes,  and  that  his  skin, 
fashioned  over  some  substance  so  as  exactly  to  resem- 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  47 

ble  the  living  man,  is  preserved  by  Sapor,  as  a  monu 
ment  of  his  triumph  over  the  legions  of  Rome.' 

1  It  is  a  pitiful  story,'  said  Fausta,  as  I  ended :  {  for 
a  brave  man  it  has  been  a  fate  worse  than  death ;  but 
having  survived  the  first  shame,  I  fear  me  my  father's 
thought  will  prove  a  too  true  one,  and  that  long  absence, 
and  indignation  at  neglect,  and  perhaps  gratitude  and 
attachment  to  the  prince,  who  seems  to  have  protected 
him,  will  have  weaned  him  from  Rome.  So  that  we 
cannot  suffer  you,  Lucius,  to  undertake  so  long  and 
dangerous  a  journey  upon  so  doubtful  an  errand.  But 
those  can  be  found,  bold  and  faithful,  who  for  that 
ample  reward  with  which  you  could  so  easily  enrich 
them,  would  venture  even  into  the  heart  of  Ecbatana 
itself,  and  bring  you  back  your  brother  alive,  or  adver 
tise  you  of  his  apostasy  or  death.' 

'  What  Fausta  says  is  just,'  observed  Gracchus, 
*  and  in  few  words  prescribes  your  course.  It  will  not 
be  a  difficult  thing,  out  of  the  multitudes  of  bold  spirits 
who  crowd  the  capital,  Greek,  Roman,  Syrian,  and 
Arab,  to  find  one  who  will  do  all  that  you  could  do, 
and  I  may  add,  both  more  and  better.  You  may  find 
those  who  are  familiar  with  the  route,  who  know  the 
customs  of  Persia,  who  can  speak  its  language,  and 
are  even  at  home  in  her  capitals,  and  who  would  be 
infinitely  more  capable  than  either  you  or  I,  or  even 
Fausta,  to  manage  to  a  happy  issue  an  enterprise  like 
this.  Let  this  then  be  our  decision  ;  and  be  it  now 
our  united  care  to  find  the  individual  to  whom  we  may 
commit  this  dear  but  perilous  service.  And  now 
enough  of  this.  The  city  sleeps,  and  it  were  better 
that  we  slept  with  it.  But  first,  my  child,  bring  har- 


43  ZE  N  0  BI  A  * 

mony  into  our  spirits  by  one  of  those  wild,  sad  airs 
which  you  are  accustomed  to  sing  to  me  upon  the 
harp  of  the  Jews.  It  will  dispose  Lucius  to  pleasant 
dreams.' 

I  added  my  importunities,  and  Fausta  rising,  moved 
to  an  open  window,  through  which  the  moon  was  now 
pouring  a  flood  of  silver  light,  and  seating  herself  be 
fore  the  instrument  which  stood  there,  first  swept  its 
strings  with  an  easy  and  graceful  hand. 

'  I  wish,'  said  she,  '  I  could  give  you  the  song  which 
I  am  going  to  sing  in  the  language  of  the  Hebrews, 
for  it  agrees  better,  I  think,  with  the  sentiment  and  the 
character  of  the  music,  than  the  softer  accents  of  the 
Greek.  But  every  thing  is  Greek  now.' 

So  saying,  she  commenced  with  a  prelude  more 
sweetly  and  profoundly  melancholy  than  even  the  wail 
ing  of  the  night  wind  among  the  leafless  trees  of  the 
forest.  This  was  followed  by — an  ode  shall  I  call  it  ? 
— or  a  hymn  ? — for  it  was  not  what  we  mean  by  a 
song.  Nor  was  the  music  like  any  other  music  I  had 
ever  heard,  but  much  more  full  of  passion;  broken, 
wild,  plaintive,  triumphant  by  turns,  it  stirred  all  the 
deepest  feelings  of  the  heart.  It  seemed  to  b$  the  lan 
guage  of  one  in  captivity,  who,  refusing  to  sing  one  of 
the  songs  of  his  country  for  the  gratification  of  his 
conquerors,  broke  out  into  passionate  strains  of  patri 
otism,  in  which  he  exalted  his  desolated  home  to  the 
Heavens,- and  prophesied  in  the  boldest  terms  her  ulti 
mate  restoration  to  power  and  glory.  The  sentiment 
lost  nothing  coming  to  the  ear  clothed  in  the  rich 
music  of  Fausta's  voice,  which  rose  and  sank,  swelled 
and  died  away,  or  was  full  of  tears  or  joy,  as  agreed 


ZENOEIA.  49 

with  the  theme  of  the  poet.  She  was  herself  the  poet, 
and  the  captive,  and  the  Jew,  so  wholly  did  she  aban 
don  herself  to  the  sway  of  the  thoughts  which  she  was 
expressing.  One  idea  alone,  however,  had  possessed 
me  while  she  sang — to  which,  the  moment  she  paused, 
I  first  gave  utterance.  *  And  think  you,  Fausta,'  said 
I,  *  that  while  the  captive  Jew  remembers  his  country, 
the  captive  Roman  will  forget  his?  Never!  Calpur- 
nius,  if  he  lives,  lives  a  Roman.  For  this  I  thank  your 
song.  Melancholy  and  sad  in  itself,  it  has  bred  joy  in 
my  soul.  I  shall  now  sleep  well.'  So  saying,  we 
separated. 

Thus  was  passed  my  first  evening  in  Palmyra. 


LETTER  III. 

WITH  what  pleasure  do  I  again  sit  down,  dear 
Curtius  and  Lucilia,  to  tell  you  how  I  have  passed  my 
time,  and  what  I  have  been  able  to  accomplish,  since  I 
last  wrote  ;  thrice  happy  that  I  have  to  report  of  success 
rather  than  of  defeat  in  that  matter  which  I  have  un 
dertaken.  But  first,  let  me  thank  you  for  all  the  city 
gossip,  with  which  you  so  greatly  entertained  me  in 
your  joint  epistle.  Although  I  pass  my  hours  and  days 
in  this  beautiful  capital  as  happily  as  I  could  any  where 
out  of  Rome,  still  my  letters  from  home  are  a  great 
VOL.  i.  5* 


50  ZENOBIA. 

addition  to  my  enjoyment.  After  rising  from  the 
perusal  of  yours  and  my  mother's,  I  was  a  new  man. 
Let  me  heg  you — which  indeed  I  need  hardly  do — to 
send  each  letter  of  mine,  as  you  receive  it,  to  Portia, 
and  in  return  receive  and  read  those  which  I  have 
written  and  shall  continue  to  write  to  her.  To  you  I 
shall  give  a  narrative  of  events ;  to  her,  I  shall  pour 
out  sentiment  and  philosophy,  as  in  our  conversation 
we  are  wont  to  do.  I  shall  hope  soon  to  have  some 
what  of  interest  to  say  of  the  state  of  letters  here,  and 
of  my  interviews  with  distinguished  men.  So  soon  as 
the  Queen  shall  return  from  her  excursion  through 
some  of  her  distant  provinces,  I  shall  call  upon  Grac 
chus  to  fulfil  his  promise,  and  make  me  known  to  the 
great  Longinus,  now  with  the  Queen  absent.  From 
my  intercourse  with  him  I  shall  look  to  draw  up  long 
and  full  reports  of  much  that  shall  afford  both  enter 
tainment  and  instruction  to  you  all. 

I  have  now  passed  several  days  in  Palmyra,  and  have 
a  mass  of  things  to  say.  But  instead  of  giving  you  a 
confused  report,  I  shall  separate  one  thing  from  another, 
and  set  down  each  according  to  the  time  and  manner 
in  which  it  happened.  This  is  what  I  know  you  de 
sire,  and  this  is  what  I  shall  do. 

I  cannot  easily  tell  you  how  delicious  was  my  slum 
ber  after  that  last  day  of  fatiguing  travel,  and  that 
evening  of  to  me  the  most  exciting  converse.  I  dream 
ed  that  night  of  Calpurnius  rescued  and  returned  ;  and 
ever  as  he  was  present  to  my  sleeping  fancy,  the  mu 
sic  of  Fausta's  harp  and  voice  was  floating  near. 

Hannibal  was  early  at  my  door  to  warn  me  of  the 
hour  of  the  morning  meal,  Milo  being  still  under  the 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  51 

influences  of  the  evening's  potation.  I  was  shown  to 
a  different  apartment  from  that  in  which  we  had  sup 
ped,  but  opening  into  it.  It  was  a  portico  rather  than 
a  room,  being  on  two  sides  open  to  the  shrubbery, 
with  slender  Ionic  pillars  of  marble  supporting 
the  ceiling,  all  joined  together  by  the  light  interlacings 
of  the  most  gorgeous  creeping  plants.  Their  odors 
filled  the  air.  A  fountain  threw  up  in  the  most  grace 
ful  forms  its  clear  water,  and  spread  all  around  an 
agreeable  coolness.  Standing  at  those  points  where 
flights  of  steps  led  down  to  the  walks  and  plats  of  grass 
and  flowers,  which  wound  about  the  palace,  the  eye 
wandered  over  the  rich  scene  of  verdure  and  blossom 
which  they  presented,  and  then  rested  where  it  can 
never  rest  too  often  or  too  long,  upon  the  glittering 
shafts  of  the  Temple  of  the  Sun.  This  morning  pros 
pect,  from  this  single  point,  I'  thought  was  reward 
enough  for  my  long  voyage  and  hot  journey  over  the 
desert.  It  inspired  more  cheerful  thoughts  than  the 
same  scene  as  I  had  seen  it  the  evening  before  from 
the  windows  of  my  chamber.  I  could  not  but  draw 
omens  of  good  from  the  universal  smile  that  beamed 
upon  me  from  the  earth  and  the  heavens.  Fausta's 
little  hand  suddenly  placed  within  mine,  and  the  cheer 
ful  greeting  of  her  voice,  awoke  me  from  my  dreamy 
state. 

'Your  countenance  shows  that  you  have  slept  well, 
Lucius,'  said  she  ;  '  it  is  bright  as  the  morning  itself. 
Vour  dreams  must  have  been  favorable.  Or  else  is  it 
the  wonder-working  power  of  a  Palmyrene  air  that  has 
wrought  so  with  you  since  the  last  evening  ?  Tell  me, 
hav?  you  not  slept  as  you  never  slept  in  Rome  ? ' 


52  Z  £  N  0  B  I  A  . 

*I  have  slept  well,  indeed,'  I  replied,  'but  I  believe 
it  was  owing  rather  to  your  harp  and  Jewish  ode,  than 
to  any  mysterious  qualities  of  the  air.  Your  music 
haunted  the  chambers  of  my  brain  all  night,  and  peo 
pled  them  with  the  forms  of  those  whom  I  love,  and 
whose  memory  it  last  evening  recalled  so  vividly. 
Mostly  I  dreamed  of  Calpurnius,  and  of  his  return  to 
Rome,  and  with  him  came  ever  your  image  dimly  seen 
hovering  round,  and  the  strains  of  your  voice  and  harp. 
These  are  to  me  auguries  of  good,  even  as  if  the  voice 
of  a  god  had  spoken.  I  shall  once  more  embrace  a 
brother — and  what  is  even  more,  a  Roman.' 

*  The  gods  grant  it  may  be  so  ! '  replied  Fausta :  <  A 
prayer  which  I  repeat,'  cried  Gracchus,  as  he  approach 
ed  us  from  the  hall,  through  which  I  had  just  passed. 
*  I  have  thought  much  of  your  affair  since  I  parted  from 
you  last  evening,  and  am  more  than  ever  persuaded 
that  we  came  to  a  true  decision  touching  the  steps  best 
to  be  taken.  To-day  I  shall  be  much  abroad,  and  shall 
not  forget  to  search  in  every  direction  for  one  who  may 
be  intrusted  with  this  nice,  and  difficult,  and  withal 
dangerous  business.  I  can  now  think  of  no  messenger 
who  bids  so  fair  to  combine  all  the  qualities  we  most 
desire,  as  the  Jew.  I  know  but  few  of  that  tribe,  and 
those  are  among  the  rich.  But  then  those  rich  are 
connected  in  various  ways  with  the  poor — for  to  a 
marvellous  extent  they  are  one  people — it  is  the  same 
you  know,  in  Rome — and  through  them  I  think  I  may 
succeed.' 

'  Now  have  you,'  I  quickly  added,  « again  poured 
light  into  my  mind.  Half  our  labor  is  over.  I  know 
a  Jew  whose  capacities  could  not  be  more  fitting  for 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  53 

this  enterprise.  I  saw  much  of  him  on  board  the  vessel 
which  took  us  first  to  the  African  coast,  where,  at  Utica, 
it  set  him  on  shore,  bringing  me  farther  on  to  Berytus. 
He  is  a  true  citizen  of  the  world — knows  all  languages, 
and  all  people,  and  all  places.  He  has  all  the  shrewd 
ness  of  his  race — their  intelligence,  their  enthusiasm, 
and,  I  may  add,  their  courage.  He  is  a  traveller  by 
profession,  and  a  vender  of  such  things  as  any  will  buy, 
and  will  go  wherever  he  may  hope  to  make  large  gains 
wherewith  to  do  his  share  toward  "  building  again  the 
walls  of  Jerusalem,"  as  he  calls  it.  He  has  a  home  in 
every  city  of  the  East.  It  was  toward  Palmyra  that 
he  was  bending  his  way :  and,  as  I  now  remember, 
promised  that  he  would  see  me  here  not  many  days 
after  I  should  arrive,  and  have  the  pleasure,  as  ho 
trusted,  to  sell  me  more  of  his  goods ;  for  you  must 
be  told  that  I  did  indeed  traffic  with  him,  however 
little  it  became  a  patrician  of  Rome.  And  here  I  have 
about  me,  in  a  little  casket,  some  rings  which  I  pur 
chased  of  him,  having  upon  them  heads  of  Zenobia 
and  Odenatus,  resembling  the  originals  to  the  life,  as 
he  assured  me  with  much  asseveration.  See,  Fausta, 
here  they  are.  Look  now,  and  tell  me  if  he  has  spo 
ken  in  this  instance  the  truth  ;  if  so,  it  will  be  a  ground 
for  trusting  him  farther.' 

'  Beautiful ! '  exclaimed  both  Gracchus  and  Fausta. 
'  He  has  indeed  dealt  honestly  with  you.  Nothing  can 
be  more  exact  than  these  resemblances,  and  the  work 
manship  is  worthy  the  hand  of  Demetrius  the  Greek.' 

'  Provincials,'  said  I,  '  ever  know  the  capital  and  its 
fashions  better  than  citizens.  Now  never  till  Isaac,  my 
Jew  friend,  rehearsed  to  me  the  praises  of  Demetrius 


54  ZENO  BIA. 

the  jeweller,  had  I  ever  heard  his  name,  or  aught  con 
cerning  his  skill,  and  here  in  the  heart  of  Asia  he 
seems  a  household  word.' 

1  It  is  so,  indeed,'  said  Gracchus.  *  I  do  not  doubt 
that  the  fashionable  artists  of  every  kind  in  Rome  are 
better  known  to  the  followers  of  fashion  in  Palmyra 
than  they  are  to  the  patricians  themselves.  Wanting 
the  real  greatness  of  Rome,  we  try  to  surpass  her  in 
the  trappings  of  greatness.  "We  are  well  represented 
by  the  frog  of  jiEsop ;  happy,  if  our  swelling  pride  do 
not  destroy  us.  But  these  rings — they  are  indeed  of 
exquisite  art.  The  head  of  Odenatus  is  truer  to  life, 
methinks,  than  that  of  the  Queen.' 

1  And  how  can  poor  stone  and  gold  set  out  the  divine 
beauty  and  grace  of  Zenobia  ! '  cried  Fausta.  c  This 
is  beautiful  to  you  now,  Lucius,  but  it  will  be  so  no 
longer  when  you  shall  have  seen  her.  Would  that  she 
were  here  !  It  seems  as  if  the  sun  were  gone  from 
the  heavens,  when  she  is  absent  from  us  on  these  long 
excursions  among  her  distant  subjects.'  . 

'  Till  then,  dear  Fausta,'  said  I,  *  deign  to  wear  on 
that  only  finger  which  I  see  ungraced  by  a  ring,  this 
head  of  your  so  much  vaunted  Queen ;  afterward  wear 
it,  if  you  will,  not  for  her  sake,  but  mine.' 

So  saying,  upon  her  finger  which  she  held  out  to 
me — and  which  how  beautiful  it  was  I  shall  not  say — 
I  attempted  to  pass  the  ring,  but  alas  !  it  was  too  small, 
and  would  not,  with  all  the  gentle  force  I  dared  to  use, 
go  on. 

'  Here  is  an  omen,  Fausta,'  said  I ;  'the  Queen  can 
not  be  forced  upon  your  hand.  I  fear  your  friendship 
is  threatened.' 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  55 

'  Oh  !  never  entertain  any  such  apprehension,'  inter 
rupted  Fausta.  *  It  is  quite  needless.  Here  is  plenty 
of  room  on  this  neighbor  finger.  It  is  quite  right  that 
Aurelian,  you  know,  should  give  way  to  Zenobia  :  so, 
away  with  the  Emperor ! '  and  she  snapped  the  ring 
across  the  pavement  of  the  Portico — '  and  now,  Lucius, 
invest  me  with  that  burning  beauty.' 

'  And  now  do  you  think  you  deserve  it  ?  I  marvel, 
Gracchus,  at  the  boldness  of  these  little  girls.  Verily, 
they  bid  fair  to  mount  up  over  our  heads.  But  come, 
your  finger  :  there — one  cannot  but  say  it  becomes  you 
better  than  the  fierce  Aurelian.  As  for  the  deposed 
Emperor,  he  is  henceforward  mine.  Thus  I  re-instate 
him.'  In  saying  which,  I  pursued  and  picked  up  the 
discarded  ring,  and  gave  to  it  the  most  honored  place 
upon  my  right  hand. 

Fausta  now,  first  laughingly  bidding  me  welcome  to 
the  ring,  called  us  to  the  table,  where  the  breakfast, 
consisting  of  fruits  in  greater  proportion  than  with  us, 
awaited  us.  Much  talk  now  ensued  concerning  the 
city,  its  growth  and  numbers,  power  and  probable  des 
tiny.  I  was  satisfied  from  what  fell  from  each,  that 
the  most  ambitious  designs  are  entertained  by  both  the 
court  and  people,  and  that  their  wonderful  successes 
have  bred  in  them  a  real  belief  that  they  should  have 
nothing  to  fear  from  the  valor  or  power  of  Rome,  under 
any  circumstances  of  collision.  When  this  was  through, 
Gracchus,  rising  from  his  seat  and  pacing  slowly  up 
arid  down  the  portico,  spoke  of  my  private  affairs,  and 
•frith  great  kindness  went  over  again  the  whole  ground. 
The  result  was  the  same. 


56  ZENOBIA. 

'  Our  way,  then,'  he  said,  '  is  clear.  Wait  a  few 
days  for  your  fellow  traveller,  Isaac.  If  he  appears, 
well, — if  not,  we  must  then  search  the  quarter  of  the 
Jews  for  one  who  may  do  as  good  service  perhaps.  I 
now  leave  you,  with  a  suggestion  to  Fausta  that  she 
should  take  it  upon  her  to  drive  you  round  the  city, 
and  into  the  suburbs.  No  one  can  perform  the  office 
of  a  guide  better  than  she.' 

*  If  Fausta  will  take  that  trouble  upon  her,'  I  replied, 
*  it  will  give  me ' 

*  A  great  deal  of  pleasure,  you  were  going  to  say ; 
so  it  will  me.     I  am  sure  we  shall  enjoy  it.     If  I  love 
any  thing,  it  is  to  reveal  to  a  proud  Roman  the  glories 
of  Palmyra.     Take  away  from  a  Roman  that  ineffable 
air  which  says  "  Behold  embodied  in  me  the  majesty 
of  Rome  !  "  and  there  remains  a  very  agreeable  person. 
But  for  those  qualities  of  mind  and  manners  which  fit 
men   and  women  for  society,   the   Roman  men  and 
women  must  yield  to  the  Palmyrenes.     So  I  think,  who 
have  seen  somewhat  of  both — and  so  think — gainsay 
my  authorities  if  you  have  the  courage — Longinus  and 
the  Bishop  of  Antioch.     I  see  that  you  are  disturbed. 
No    wonder.     Longinus,  though    a  philosopher,  is  a 
man  of  the  world,  who  sees  through  its  ways  as  clearly 
as  he  does  through  the  mysticism  of  Plato,  and  that 
asks  for  good  eyes ;  and  for  the  bishop — there  is  not 
so  finished  a  gentleman  in  all  the  East.     His  appoint 
ments  are  not  less  exquisite  than  those  of  the  highest 
noble  either  of  Antioch  or  Palmyra.     If  an  umpire  in 
any  question  of  manners  were  to  be  chosen,  it  would 
be  he.' 

'  As  for  the  Greek,'  I  rejoined,  '  I  am  predisposed  to 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  57 

admit  his  superior  claims.  I  will  surrender  to  him 
with  alacrity  my  doubts  both  in  manners  and  philoso 
phy.  '  For  I  hold  there  is  a  philosophy  in  manners, 
nay,  even  in  clothes,  and  that  the  highest  bred  intellect 
will  on  that  very  account  best  perceive  the  nice  dis 
tinctions  and  relations,  in  the  exact  perception  and 
observance  of  which  the  highest  manners  consist. 
Such  an  one  may  offend  against  the  last  device  in 
costume — and  the  last  refinement  in  the  recondite  art 
of  a  bow — but  he  will  eternally  excel  in  all  that  we 
mean  by  breeding.  Your  bishop  I  know  nothing  of, 
but  your  account  of  him  strikes  me  not  very  agreeably. 
These  Christian  bishops,  methinks,  are  taking  upon 
themselves  too  much.  And  besides*  if  what  I  gathered 
of  the  theory  of  their  religion  from  a  passenger  on  board 
the  Mediterranean  trader,  be  correct,  they  depart  great 
ly  from  the  severity  of  their  principles,  when  they  so 
addict  themselves  to  the  practices  of  courts  and  of  the 
rich.  I  received  from  this  Christian  a  beautiful  idea 
of  his  faith,  and  only  lamented  that  our  companionship 
was  broken  off  before  I  had  had  time  fully  to  compre 
hend  all  he  had  to  say.  The  character  of  this  man, 
and  his  very  countenance,  seemed  as  arguments  to 
support  the  strict  opinions  which  he  advanced.  This 
bishop,  I  think,  can  scarcely  do  his  faith  the  same 
service.' 

4 1  know  him  not  much,'  said  Fausta,  '  and  of  his 
faith,  nothing.  He  has  great  power  over  the  Princess 
Julia,  and  it  would  not  much  amaze  me  if,  by  arid  by, 
she  declared  herself  a  Christian.  It  is  incredible  how 
that  superstition  spreads.  Bat  here  is  our  carriage. 
Coine,  let  us  forth.' 

VOL.  i.  6 


58  ZENOBIA. 

So,  breaking  off  our  talk,  we  betook  ourselves  to  the 
carriage.  How  shall  I  find  language,  my  Curtius,  to 
set  before  you  with  the  vividness  of  the  reality,  or  with 
any  approach  to  it,  the  pictures  which  this  drive  through 
and  around  Palmyra  caused  to  pass  successively  before 
me  ?  You  know  indeed,  generally,  what  the  city  is, 
from  the  reports  of  former  travellers,  especially  from 
the  late  book  of  Spurius,  about  which  and  its  specula 
tions  much  was  said  a  little  while  since.  But  let  me 
tell  you,  a  more  one-sided,  one-eyed,  malignant  ob 
server  never  thrust  himself  upon  the  hospitalities  of  a 
free,  open-hearted  people,  than  that  same  Spurius,  poet 
and  bibliopole.  His  very  name  is  an  offence  to  the 
Palmyrenes,  who,  whatever  national  faults  they  may 
have,  do  not  deserve  the  deep  disgrace  of  being  brought 
before  the  world  in  the  pages  of  so  poor  a  thing  as  the 
said  Ventidius  Spurius.  Though  it  will  not  be  my 
province  to  treat  as  an  author  of  the  condition,  policy, 
and  prospects  of  Palmyra,  yet  to  you  and  my  friends  I 
shall  lay  myself  open  with  the  utmost  freedom,  and 
shall  refrain  from  no  statement  or  opinion  that  shall 
possess,  or  seem  to  do  so,  truth  or  importance. 

The  horses  springing  from  under  the  whip  of  the 
charioteer,  soon  bore  us  from  the  great  entrance  of  the 
palace  into  the  midst  of  the  throng  that  crowded  the 
streets.  The  streets,  seen  now  under  the  advantages 
of  a  wawji  morning  sun  adding  a  beauty  of  its  own  to 
whatever  it  glanced  upon,  showed  much  more  brilliantly 
than  ours  of  Rome.  There  is,  in  the  first  place,  a 
more  general  sumptuousness  in  equipage  and  dress, 
very  striking  to  the  eye  of  a  Roman.  Not  perhaps  that 
more  wealth  is  displayed,  but  the  forms  and  the  colors, 


Z  £  N  0  B  I  A  .  59 

through  which  it  displays  itself,  are  more  various,  more 
tasteful,  more  gorgeous.  Nothing  can  exceed,  nothing 
equals,  it  is  said,  any  where  in  the  world,  the  state  of 
the  Queen  and  her  court ;  and  this  infects,  if  I  may 
use  so  harsh  a  word,  the  whole  city.  So  that,  though 
with  far  less  of  real  substantial  riches  than  we  have, 
their  extravagance  and  luxury  are  equal,  and  their 
taste  far  before  us.  Then  every  thing  wears  a  newer, 
fresher  look  than  in  Rome.  The  buildings  of  the  re 
public,  which  many  are  so  desirous  to  preserve,  and 
whole  streets  even  of  ante-Augustan  architecture,  tend 
to  spread  around  here  and  there  in  Rome  a  gloom — to 
me  full  of  beauty  and  poetry — but  still  gloom.  Here 
all  is  bright  and  gay.  The  buildings  of  marble — the 
streets  paved  and  clean — frequent  fountains  of  water 
throwing  up  their  foaming  jets,  and  shedding  around  a 
delicious  coolness — temples,  and  palaces  of  the  nobles, 
or  of  wealthy  Palmyrene  merchants — altogether  pre 
sent  a  more  brilliant  assemblage  of  objects  than  I  sup 
pose  any  other  city  can  boast.  Then  conceive,  poured 
through  these  long  lines  of  beautiful  edifices,  among 
these  temples  and  fountains,  a  population  drawn  from\ 
every  country  of  the  far  East,  arrayed  in  every  variety 
of  the  most  showy  and  fanciful  costume,  with  the  sin 
gular  animals,  rarely  seen  in  our  streets,  but  here  met 
at  every  turn — elephants,  camels,  and  dromedaries,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  Arabian  horses,  with  their  jewelled 
housings,  with  every  now  and  then  a  troop  of  the 
Queen's  cavalry,  moving  along,  to  the  sound  of  their 
clanging  trumpets — conceive,  I  say,  this  ceaseless  tide 
of  various  animal  life  poured  along  among  the  proud 


60  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

piles,  and  choking  the  ways,  and  you  will  have  some 
faint  glimpse  of  the  strange  and  imposing  reality. 

Fausta  was  in  raptures  at  my  transports,  and  in  her 
pleasant  but  deep-meaning  way,  boasted  much  over  the 
great  capital  of  the  world.  So  we  rode  along,  slowly, 
because  of  the  crowded  state  of  the  streets,  and  on 
account  of  my  desire  to  observe  the  manners  and  ways 
of  the  people — their  shops,  which  glittered  with  every 
rare  work  of  art — and  the  devices,  so  similar  in  all 
places  of  trade,  by  which  the  seller  attracts  the  buyer. 
I  was  engrossed  by  objects  of  this  sort,  when  Fausta's 
voice  drew  my  attention  another  way. 

*  Now,'  said  she,  *  prepare  yourself  for  the  glory  of 
Palmyra  ;  look  when  we  shall  suddenly  turn  round  the 
next  corner,  on  the  left,  and  see  what  you  shall  see.' 

The  chariot  soon  whirled  round  the  indicated  corner, 
and  we  found  ourselves  in  full  view  of  the  Temple  of 
the  Sun,  so  famous  throughout  the  world.  Upon  a  vast 
platform  of  marble,  itself  decorated  with  endless  lines 
of  columns — elsewhere  of  beauty  and  size  sufficient  for 
the  principal  building,  but  here  a  mere  appendage — 
stood  in  solitary  magnificence  this  peerless  work  of  art. 
All  I  could  do  was,  and  the  act  was  involuntary,  to 
call  upon  the  charioteer  to  rein  up  his  horses  and  let 
me  quietly  gaze.  In  this  Fausta,  nothing  unwilling, 
indulged  me.  Then,  when  satisfied  with  this  the  first 
point  of  view,  we  wound  slowly  round  the  spacious 
square  upon  which  it  stands,  observing  it  well  in  all 
directions,  and  taking  my  fill  of  that  exalted  but 
nameless  pleasure  which  flows  in  upon  the  soul  from 
the  contemplation  of  perfect  excellence. 


ZEN  OBI A.  61 

1  This  is,  if  I  err  not,  Fausta,  the  work  of  a  Greek 
artist.' 

*  It  is,'  said  she :  *  here  both  Romans  and  Palmy- 
renes  must  acknowledge  their  inferiority,  and  indeed 
all  other  people.  In  every  city  of  the  world,  I  believe, 
all  the  great  works  of  art  are  the  offspring  of  Grecian 
genius  and  Grecian  taste.  Truly,  a  wonderful  people  ! 
In  this  very  city,  our  artists — our  men  of  letters'—even 
the  first  ministers  of  state — all  are  Greeks.  But 
come,  let  us  move  on  to  the  Long  Portico,  an  edifice 
which  will  astonish  you  yet  more  than  even  the 
Temple  of  the  Sun,  through  your  having  heard  of  it 
so  much  less.  We  shall  reach  it  in  about  half  a 
Roman  mile.' 

This  space  was  soon  passed,  and  the  Portico  stood 
revealed  with  its  interminable  ranges  of  Corinthian 
columns,  and  the  busy  multitudes  winding  among 
them,  and  pursuing  their  various  avocations,  for  which 
this  building  offers  a  common  and  convenient  ground. 
Here  the  merchants  assemble  and  meet  each  other. 
Here  various  articles  of  more  than  common  rarity  are 
brought  and  exhibited  for  sale.  Here  the  mountebanks 
resort,  and  entertain  the  idle  and  lovers  of  amusement 
with  their  fantastic  tricks.  And  here  strangers  from 
all  parts  of  the  world  may  be  seen  walking  to  and  fro, 
observing  the  customs  of  the  place,  and  regaling  them 
selves  at  the  brilliant  rooms,  furnished  with  every 
luxury,  which  are  opened  for  their  use,  or  else  at  the 
public  baths  which  are  found  in  the  immediate  neigh 
borhood.  The  Portico  does  not,  like  the  Temple, 
stand  upon  an  elevated  platform,  but  more  upon  a  level 
with  the  streets.  Its  greatness  is  derived  from  its  ex- 
VOL.  i.  6=* 


62  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

treme  length,  and  its  exquisitely-perfect  designs  and 
workmanship,  as  seen  in  the  graceful  fluted  columns 
and  the  rich  entablature  running  round  the  whole. 
The  life  and  achievements  of  Alexander  are  sculptured 
upon  the  frieze ;  the  artist — a  Greek  also — having  been 
allowed  to  choose  his  own  theme. 

*  Fausta,'  said  I,  *  my  soul  is  steeped  in  beauty.  It 
will  be  to  no  purpose  to  show  me  more  now.  I  am 
like  one  who  has  eaten  too  much — forgive  the  figure — 
delicacies  are  lost  upon  him.' 

'  I  cannot  release  you  yet,'  cried  Fausta  :  *  a  little 
farther  on,  and  you  may  see  the  palace  of  our  great 
Queen  :  give  me  your  patience  to  that  point,  and  I  will 
then  relieve  you  by  a  little  excursion  through  the  sub 
urbs,  where  your  eye  may  repose  upon  a  rural  beauty 
as  satisfying  as  this  of  the  city.  You  must  see  the 
palace.  There  ! — we  are  already  in  sight  of  it.' 

It  rose  upon  us,  so  vast  is  it,  and  of  so  many  parts, 
like  a  city  within  a  city.  A  fit  dwelling  for  so  great, 
so  good,  and  so  beautiful  a  woman.  Of  this  you  will 
find  a  careful  and  true  account,  with  drawings,  which 
greatly  help  the  imagination,  in  the  otherwise  vile  book 
of  the  traducer  Spurius.  To  that  I  refer  you,  and  so 
refrain  from  all  description. 

We  now  left  the  city,  and  wound  at  our  leisure 
among  the  shady  avenues,  the  noble  country  retreats, 
the  public  gardens,  the  groves  and  woods  which  en 
compass  the  walls,  and  stretch  away  far  beyond  the 
sight,  into  the  interior.  Returning,  we  passed  through 
the  arches  of  the  vast  aqueduct  which  pours  into  the 
city  a  river  of  the  purest  water.  This  is  the  most 
striking  object,  and  noblest  work  of  art,  without  the 
walls. 


ZENOBIA.  63 

When  we  had  passed  in  this  way  nearly  the  whole 
day,  we  at  length  re-entered  the  city  by  the  Persian 
Gate,  on  the  eastern  side. 

'  Now,  Fausta,'  said  I,  '  having  given  so  much  of  the 
day  to  pleasure,  I  must  give  the  rest,  not  to  pain,  but 
to  duty.  I  will  seek  out  and  find,  if  I  can,  Demetrius; 
brother  to  Demetrius  of  Rome.  From  him  I  can  learn, 
it  seems  probable,  concerning  the  movements  of  Isaac.' 

*  You  will  find  the  shop  of  Demetrius  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  city,  midway  between  the  Persian  and 
Roman  gates.    Farewell,  for  a  time,  and  may  the  gods 
prosper  you ! ' 

I  was  not  long  in  making  my  way  to  the  shop  of  the 
Greek.  I  found  the  skilful  Demetrius  busily  engaged 
in  putting  the  last  polish  upon  a  small  silver  statue  of 
a  flying  Mercury.  He  looked  up  as  I  entered,  and 
saluting  me  in  Greek,  invited  me  to  look  at  his  works. 
I  could  not  for  a  long  time  take  off  my  eyes  from  the 
figure  upon  which  he  was  working,  and  expressed  my 
admiration. 

'  Ah,  it  is  very  well,  I  think,'  said  he,  '  but  it  is 
nothing  compared  with  the  work  of  my  brother  at 
Rome.  You  know  him  doubtless  ? ' 

*  Indeed  I  do  not,  I  am  obliged  to  say.' 

*  What ! — a  Roman,  as  I  perceive,  and  a  patrician 
also,  and  not  know  Demetrius  the  goldsmith  ? — he  who 
was  the  favorite  of  Valerian,  and  Gallienus,  and  Clau 
dius,  and  now  of  Aurelian  ?     There  is  no  hand  like 
that  of  Demetrius  the    elder.     These,  sir,  are    mere 
scratches,  to  his  divine  touch.     These  are  dolls,  com 
pared  with  the  living  and  breathing  gold  as  it  leaves 
his  chisel.     Sir,  it  is  saying  nothing  beyond  belief, 


64  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

when  1  say,  that  many  a  statue  like  this,  of  his,  is 
worth  more  than  many  a  living  form  that  we  see  in 
and  out  of  the  shop.  Forgive  me,  but  I  must  say  I 
would  rather  possess  one  of  his  images  of  Venus  or 
Apollo,  than  a  live  Roman — though  he  be  a  patrician 
too.' 

*  You  are  complimentary,'  I  said  :  '  but  I  can  believe 
you.     When  I  return  to  Rome,  I  shall  seek  out  your 
brother,  and  make  myself  acquainted  with  his  genius. 
I  have  heretofore  heard  of  him  chiefly  through  a  trav 
elling  Jew,  whom  I  fell  in  with  on  the  way  hither — 
Isaac,  as  he  is  called.' 

'  Ah  ha ! — Isaac  of  Rome.  I  know  him  well,'  he 
replied.  *  He  is  a  good  man — that  is,  he  is  good  for 
one  of  that  tribe.  I  look  for  him  every  day.  A  letter 
from  Rome  informs  me  that  he  is  on  his  way.  It  is  a 
pleasant  thing  to  see  Isaac.  I  wonder  what  curiosities 
he  brings  from  the  hand  of  my  brother.  He  will  be 
welcome.  I  trust  he  brings  some  heads  of  our  late 
king  and  present  queen,  from  drawings  which  I  made 
and  transmitted.  I  am  impatient  to  see  them.  Saw 
you  anything  of  this  sort  about  him  ? ' 

*  Truly  I  did,  and  if  by  some  ill  chance  I  have  not 
left  them  behind  me,  in  my  preparations  for  a  morning 
excursion,  I  can  show  you  what  you  will  like  to  see. 
Ah  !  here  it  is  :  in  this  small  casket  I  have,  I  presume, 
unless  Isaac  shall  have  deceived  me — but  of  which 
you  will  be  a  perfect  judge — some  of  your  brother's 
art.     Look,  here  are  rings  with  heads  of  your  king 
and  queen,  such  as  you  have  just  spoken  of.     Are 
they  genuine  ? ' 

1  No  instrument  but  that  which  is  guided  by  the  hand 


ZENOBIA.  65 

of  the  elder  Demetrius  ever  did  this  work,'  said  he, 
slowly  drawing  out  his  words,  as  he  closely  scrutinized 
the  ring.  '  The  gold  embossment  might  indeed  have 
been  done  by  another,  but  not  these  heads,  so  true  to 
the  life,  and  of  an  art  so  far  beyond  any  ability  of  mine, 
that  I  am  tempted  sometimes  to  think  that  he  is  in 
league  with  Vulcan.  Gods !  how  that  mouth  of  the 
Queen  speaks  !  Do  we  not  hear  it  ?  Ah,  Roman,  give 
me  the  skill  of  Demetrius  the  elder,  and  I  would  spit 
upon  all  the  power  of  Aurelian.' 

'  You  Greeks  are  a  singular  people.  I  believe  that 
the  idea  of  beauty  is  to  you  food  and  clothing,  and 
shelter  and  drink,  more  than  all  riches  and  all  power : 
dying  on  a  desert  island,  a  fragment  of  Phidias  would 
be  dearer  to  you  than  a  cargo  of  food.' 

'  That 's  a  pretty  conceit  enough,'  said  he, '  and  some 
thing  near  the  truth,  as  must  be  confessed.' 

As  we  were  thus  idly  discoursing,  we  became  sud 
denly  conscious  of  an  unusual  commotion  in  the  street. 
The  populace  began  to  move  quickly  by  in  crowds, 
and  vehicles  of  all  sorts  came  pouring  along  as  if  in 
expectation  of  something  they  were  eager  to  see. 

4  What 's  all  this  ? — what 's  all  this  ? '  said  Demetrius, 
leaving  his  work,  which  he  had  resumed,  and  running 
to  the  door  of  his  shop  :  «  what 's  the  matter,  friend  ? ' 
addressing  a  citizen  hurrying  by :  'Is  Aurelian  at  the 
gates,  that  you  are  posting  along  in  such  confusion?' 

*  Not  Aurelian,'  replied  the  other,  '  but  Aurelian 's 
mistress.  The  Queen  is  coming.  Clouds  of  dust  on 
the  skirts  of  the  plain  show  that  she  is  advancing 
toward  the  city.' 

'  Now,  Roman,  if  thou  wouldst  see  a  sight,  be  ad- 


66  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

vised  and  follow  me.  We  will  mount  the  roof  of 
yonder  market,  whence  we  shall  win  a  prospect  such 
as  no  eye  can  have  seen  that  has  not  gazed  from  the 
same  point.  It  is  where  I  go  to  refresh  my  dulled 
senses,  after  the  day's  hard  toil.' 

So  saying,  and  pausing  a  moment  only  to  give  some 
necessary  directions  to  the  pupils,  who  were  stationed 
at  their  tasks  throughout  the  long  apartment,  telling 
them  to  wait  for  the  show  till  it  should  pass  by  the 
shop,  and  not  think  to  imitate  their  master  in  all  his 
ways — saying  these  things  in  a  half  earnest  and  half 
playful  manner — we  crossed  the  street,  and  soon 
reached  the  level  roof,  well  protected  by  a  marble 
breastwork,  of  the  building  he  had  pointed  out. 

*  We  are  here  just  at  the  right  moment,'  said  he  : 
'  come  quickly  to  this  corner  and  secure  a  seat,  for 
you  see  the  people  are  already  thronging  after  us. 
There !  can  Elysium  offer  a  more  perfect  scene  ? 
And  look,  how  inspiring  is  the  view  of  these  two 
multitudes  moving  toward  each  other,  in  the  spirit  of 
friendship !  How  the  city  opens  her  arms  to  embrace 
her  Queen ! ' 

At  the  distance  of  about  a  mile  from  the  walls,  we 
now  saw  the  party  of  the  Queen,  escorted  by  a  large 
body  of  horse  :  and,  approaching  them  from  the  city, 
apparently  its  whole  population,  some  on  foot,  some  on 
horse,  some  in  carriages  of  every  description.  The 
plain  was  filled  with  life.  The  sun  shooting  his 
beams  over  the  whole,  and  reflected  from  the  spears 
and  corslets  of  the  cavalry,  and  the  gilding  and  polished 
work  of  chariots  and  harness,  caused  the  scene  to 
sparkle  as  if  strewed  with  diamonds.  It  was  a  fair 


2ENOBIA.  67 

sight.  But  fairer  than  all  was  it  to  witness,  as  I  did, 
the  hearty  enthusiasm  of  the  people,  and  even  of  the 
children,  toward  their  lovely  Queen.  Tears  of  joy 
even  I  could  see  falling  from  many  eyes,  that  she  was 
returning  to  them  again.  As  soon  as  the  near  ap 
proach  of  Zenobia  to  the  walls  began  to  conceal  her 
and  her  escort,  then  we  again  changed  our  position, 
and  returned  to  the  steps  of  the  shop  of  Demetrius,  as 
the  Queen  would  pass  directly  by  them,  on  her  way 
to  the  palace. 

We  had  been  here  not  many  minutes,  before  the 
shouts  of  the  people,  and  the  braying  of  martial  music, 
and  the  confused  sound  of  an  approaching  multitude, 
showed  that  the  Queen  was  near.  Troops  of  horse, 
variously  caparisoned,  each  more  brilliantly  as  it 
seemed  than  another,  preceded  a  train  of  sumptuary 
elephants  and  camels,  these  too  richly  dressed,  but 
heavily  loaded.  Then  came  the  body-guard  of  the 
Queen,  in  armor  of  complete  steel — and  then  the 
chariot  of  Zenobia,  drawn  by  milk-white  Arabians. 
So  soon  as  she  appeared,  the  air  resounded  with  the 
acclamations  of  the  countless  multitudes.  Every  cry 
of  loyalty  and  affection  was  heard  from  ten  thousand 
mouths,  making  a  music  such  as  filled  the  heart  almost 
to  breaking. 

*  Long  live  the  great  Zenobia ! '  went  up  to  the 
heavens.  '  The  blessing  of  all  the  gods  on  our  good 
Queen  ! ' — '  Health  and  happiness  to  the  mother  of  her 
people  ! ' — «  Death  and  destruction  to  her  enemies  ! ' — 
these,  and  cries  of  the  same  kind,  came  from  the  peo 
ple,  not  as  a  mere  lip-service,  but  evidently,  from  the 
tone  in  which  they  were  uttered,  prompted  by  real 


68  ZENOBIA. 

sentiments  of  love,  such  as  it  seems  to  me  never 
before  can  have  existed  toward  a  supreme  and  absolute 
prince. 

It  was  to  me  a  moment  inexpressibly  interesting.  I 
could  not  have  asked  for  more,  than  for  the  first  time 
to  see  this  great  woman  just  as  I  now  saw  her.  I 
cannot,  at  this  time,  even  speak  of  her  beauty,  and  the 
imposing  yet  sweet  dignity  of  her  manner;  for  it  was 
with  me,  as  I  suppose  it  was  with  all — the  diviner 
beauty  of  the  emotions  and  sentiments  which  were 
working  at  her  heart  and  shone  out  in  the  expressive 
language  of  her  countenance,  took  away  all  power  of 
narrowly  scanning  complexion,  feature  and  form.  Her 
look  was  full  of  love  for  her  people.  She  regarded 
them  as  if  they  were  her  children.  She  bent  herself 
fondly  toward  them,  as  if  nothing  but  tbe  restraints  of 
form  withheld  her  from  throwing  herself  into  their 
arms.  This  was  the  beauty  which  filled  and  agitated 
me.  I  was  more  than  satisfied. 

1  And  who,'  said  I  to  Demetrius,  '  is  that  beautiful 
being,  but  of  a  sad  and  thoughtful  countenance,  who 
sits  at  the  side  of  the  Queen  ? ' 

'  That,'  he  replied,  *  is  the  Princess  Julia ;  a  true 
descendant  of  her  great  mother  ;  and  the  gods  grant 
that  she,  rather  than  either  of  her  brothers,  may  suc 
ceed  to  the  sovereign  power.' 

*  She  looks  indeed,'  said  I,  *  worthy  to  reign — over 
hearts  at  least,  if  not  over  nations.  Those  in  the  next 
chariot  are,  I  suppose,  the  young  Caesars,  as  I  hear  they 
are  called — about  as  promising,  to  judge  by  the  form 
and  face,  as  some  of  our  Roman  brood  of  the  same 
name.  I  need  not  ask  whose  head  that  is  in  the  car- 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  69 

riage  next  succeeding ;  it  can  belong  to  no  other  in 
Palmyra  than  the  great  Longinus.  What  a  divine 
repose  breathes  over  that  noble  countenance  !  What  a 
clear  and  far-sighted  spirit  looks  out  of  those  eyes ! 
But — gods  of  Rome  and  of  the  world ! — who  sits  be 
side  him  ?  Whose  dark  soul  is  lodged  in  that  fearful 
tenement  ? — fearful  and  yet  beautiful,  as  would  be  a 
statue  of  ebony  ! ' 

'  Know  you  not  him  ?  Know  you  not  the  Egyptian 
Zabdas? — the  mirror  of  accomplished  knighthood — 
the  pillar  of  the  state — the  Aurelian  of  the  East  ?  Ah ! 
far  may  you  go  to  find  two  such  men  as  those — of 
gifts  so  diverse,  and  power  so  great — sitting  together 
like  brothers.  It  all  shows  the  greater  power  of  Zeno- 
bia,  who  can  tame  the  roughest  and  most  ambitious 
spirits  to  her  uses.  Who  is  like  Zenobia  ? ' 

'  So  ends,  it  seems  to  me,'  I  replied, '  every  sentence 
of  every  Palmyrene— "  Who  is  like  Zenobia  ? "  ' 

'  Well,  Roman,'  said  he,  'it  is  a  good  ending ;  may 
there  never  be  a  worse.  Happy  were  it  for  mankind, 
if  kings  and  queens  were  all  like  her.  She  rules  to 
make  others  happy — not  to  rule.  She  conceives  her 
self  to  be  an  instrument  of  government,  not  its  end. 
Many  is  the  time,  that,  standing  in  her  private  closet, 
with  my  cases  of  rare  jewels,  or  with  some  pretty  fan 
cy  of  mine  in  the  way  of  statue  or  vase,  I  have  heard 
the  wisdom  of  Aristotle  dropping  in  the  honey  of  Plato's 
Greek  from  her  divine  lips.' 

'  You  are  all  going  mad  with  love,'  said  I ;  *  I  begin 

to  tremble  for  myself  as  a  Roman.     I   must  depart 

while  I  am  yet  safe.     But  see !  the    crowd  and  the 

show  are  vanished.    Let  me  hear  of  the  earliest  return 

VOL.  i.  7 


70  ZENOBIA. 

of  Isaac,  and  the  gods  prosper  you  !  I  am  at  the  house 
of  Gracchus,  opposite  the  Temple  of  Justice.' 

I  found,  on  reaching  the  palace,  Fausta  and  Grac 
chus,  overjoyed  at  the  safe  and  happy  return  of  the 
Queen.  Fausta,  too,  as  the  Queen  was  passing  by, 
she  standing  by  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  great  entrance, 
had  obtained  a  smile  of  recognition,  and  a  wave  of  the 
hand  from  her  great  friend,  as  I  may  justly  term  her, 
and  nothing  could  exceed  the  spirits  she  was  in. 

'  How  glad  I  am,  Lucius,'  said  she,  '  that  you  have 
seen  her  so  soon,  and  more  than  all,  that  you  saw  her 
just  as  you  did,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  people.  I  do 
not  believe  you  ever  saw  Aurelian  so  received  in  Rome 
— Claudius  perhaps — but  not  again  Gallienus,  or  his 
severe  but  weak  father.  But  what  have  you  done — 
which  is  to  all  of  us  a  more  immediately  interesting 
subject — what  have  you  done  for  Calpurnius  ?  Do 
you  learn  any  thing  of  Isaac  ?' 

*  I  have  the  best  news,'  I  replied,  '  possible  in  the 
case.  Isaac  will  be  in  Palmyra — perhaps  this  very 
night ;  but  certainly  within  a  few  days,  if  the  gods 
spare  his  life.  Demetrius  is  to  give  me  the  earliest 
intelligence  of  his  arrival.' 

'  Now  then  let  us,'  said  Fausta,  '  to  the  table,  which 
need  not  offer  the  delicacies  of  Vitellius,  to  insure  a 
favorable  reception  from  appetites  sharpened  as  ours 
have  been  by  the  day's  motion  and  excitement.' 

Gracchus,  throwing  down  a  manuscript  he  had  been 
attentively  perusing,  now  joined  us. 

Leaving  untold  all  the  good  things  which  were  said, 
especially  by  Gracchus,  while  I  and  Fausta,  more  ter 
restrially  given,  applied  ourselves  to  the  agreeable  task 


2ENOBIA.  71 

set  before  us,  I  hasten  to  tell  you  of  my  interview  with 
the  Jew,  and  of  its  issue.  For  no  sooner  had  evening 
set  in,  and  Fausta,  seated  at  her  harp,  was  again  sooth 
ing  the  soul  with  her  sweet  and  wild  strains,  than  a 
messenger  was  announced  from  the  Greek  Demetrius, 
desiring  to  have  communication  with  me.  Divining 
at  once  his  errand,  I  sought  him  in  the  ante -room, 
where,  learning  from  him  that  Isaac  was  arrived,  and 
that  if  I  would  see  him  I  must  seek  him  on  the  mo 
ment,  as  he  was  but  for  one  night  in  the  city,  intending 
in  the  morning  to  start  for  Ctesiphon,  I  bade  him  lead 
on,  and  I  would  follow,  first  calling  Milo  to  accompany 
me. 

'  To  what  part  of  the  city  do  we  go  ? '  said  I,  ad 
dressing  the  messenger  of  Demetrius. 

'  To  the  quarter  of  the  Jews,  near  the  Gate  of  the 
Desert,'  he  replied.  *  Be  not  apprehensive  of  danger,' 
he  added ;  '  the  city  is  as  safe  by  night  as  by  day. 
This  we  owe  to  the  great  Queen.' 

*  Take  me  where  thou  wilt,  I  fear  nothing,'  said  I. 

*  But  methinks,  master  mine,'  said  Milo, '  seeing  that 
we  know  not  the  ways  of  this  outlandish  capital,  nor 
even  who  this  doubtless  respectable  person  is  who  in 
vites  us  to  this  enterprise,  it  were  more  discreet  to  add 
Hannibal  to  our  numbers.     Permit  me,  and  I  will  in 
voke  the  presence  of  the  Ethiopian.' 

'  No,  Milo,'  I  replied,  '  in  thy  valor  I  am  ready  to 
put  my  trust.  Thy  courage  is  tried  courage,  and  if 
need  be,  I  doubt  not  thou  wilt  not  hesitate  to  die  sword 
in  hand.' 

'  Such  sort  of  confidence  I  do  by  no  means  covet :  I 
would  rather  that  thou  shouldst  place  it  somewhere 


72  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

else.  It  is  true  that  when  I  was  in  the  service  of  the 
most  noble  Gallienus ' 

*  Well,  we  will  spare  thee  the  trouble  of  that  story. 
I  believe  I  do  thy  virtues  no  injustice.  Moreover,  the 
less  talk,  the  more  speed.' 

Saying  this,  in  order  that  I  might  be  left  to  my  own 
thoughts  for  a  space,  before  I  should  meet  the  Jew, 
we  then  pressed  on,  threading  our  way  through  a 
maze  of  streets,  where  recollection  of  place  and  of 
direction  was  soon  and  altogether  lost.  The  streets 
now  became  narrow,  filthy,  darker  and  darker,  crooked 
and  involved.  They  were  still  noisy  with  the  loud 
voices  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  dwellings,  calling  to 
each  other,  quarrelling  or  laughing,  with  the  rattling 
of  vehicles  returning  home  after  the  labors  of  the  day, 
and  with  all  that  variety  of  deafening  sounds  which 
fall  upon  the  ear  where  great  numbers  of  a  poor  and 
degraded  population  are  crowded  together  into  confined 
quarters.  Suddenly  leaving  what  seemed  to  be  a  sort 
of  principal  street,  our  guide  turned  down  into  an 
obscure  lane,  which,  though  extremely  narrow  and 
crooked,  was  better  built  than  the  streets  we  had  just 
left.  Stopping  now  before  what  seemed  a  long  and 
low  white  wall,  our  guide,  descending  a  few  steps, 
brought  us  to  the  principal  entrance  of  the  dwelling, 
for  such  we  found  it  to  be.  Applying  a  stone  to  the 
door,  to  arouse  those  who  might  be  within,  we  were 
immediately  answered  in  a  voice  which  I  at  once 
recognised  as  that  of  Isaac  : 

'  Break  not  in  the  door,'  shouted  he,  '  with  your  un 
mannerly  blows.  Who  are  you,  that  one  must  live 
standing  with  his  hand  on  the  latch  of  the  door  ?  Wait 


ZENOBIA.  73 

I  say,  till  I  can  have  time  to  walk  the  length  of  the 
room.  What  can  the  Gentiles  of  Palmyra  want  of 
Isaac  of  Rome  at  this  time  of  night  ? '  So  muttering, 
he  unbarred  and  opened  the  door. 

*  Gome  in,  come  in  :  the  house  of  Isaac  is  but  a  poor 
house  of  a  poor  Jew,  but  it  has  a  welcome  for  all. 

Come  in-— come .     But,  father  Abraham!  whom 

have  we  here  ?    The  most  noble  Piso  !    A  patrician  of 
Rome  in  the  hovel  of  a  poverty-pinched  Jew !     That 
would  sound  well  upon  the  exchange.     It  may  be  of 
account.     But  what  am  I  saying  ?     Welcome  to  Pal 
myra,  most   noble    Piso,  for  Palmyra  is  one  of  my 
homes  ;  at  Rome,  and  at  Antioch,  and  Alexandria,  and 
Ctesiphon,  and  Carthage — it    is  the   same  to  Isaac. 
Pray  seat  yourselves ;  upon  this  chair  thou  wilt  find  a 
secure  seat,  though  it  promises  not  so  much,  and  here 
upon  my  dromedary's  furniture  is  another.     So,  now 
we  are  well.     Would  that  I  had  that  flask  of  soft  Pal- 
myrene,  which  but  now  I  sent ' 

*  Take  no  trouble  for  our  sakes,'  I  exclaimed,  cordi 
ally  saluting  him  ;  '  I  am  just  now  come  from  the  table 
of  Gracchus.     I  have  matters  of  more  moment  to  dis 
cuss  than  either  meats  or  wines.' 

'  But,  noble  master,  hast  thou  ever  brought  to  thy 
lips  this  same  soft  Palmyrene  ?  The  name  indicates 
some  delicious  juice.' 

*  Peace,  Milo,  or  thou  goest  home  alone,  as  thou  best 
canst.' 

'  Roman,'  began  Isaac, <  I  can  think  only  of  two  rea 
sons  that  can  have  brought  thee  to  my  poor  abode  so 
soon ;  the  one  is  to  furnish  thyself  with  more  of  that 
jewelry  which  gave  thee  so  much  delight,  and  the  other 
VOL,  i.  7* 


74  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

to  discourse  with  me  concerning  the  faith  of  Moses. 
Much  as  I  love  a  bargain,  I  hope  it  is  for  the  last  that 
thou  art  come ;  for  I  would  fain  see  thee  in  a  better 
way  than  thou  art,  or  than  thou  wouldst  be  if  that 
smooth  Probus  should  gain  thy  ear.  Heed  not  the 
wily  Nazarene  !  I  cannot  deny  him  a  good  heart,  after 
what  I  saw  of  him  in  Carthage.  But  who  is  he,  to 
take  it  upon  him  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  the  faith  of 
two  thousand  years  ?  Would  that  I  could  once  see  him 
in  the  grasp  of  Simon  Ben  Gorah !  How  would  his 
heresy  wither  and  die  before  the  learning  of  that  son 
of  God.  Roman,  heed  him  not !  Let  me  take  thee 
to  Simon,  that  thou  mayst  once  in  thy  life  hear  the 
words  of  wisdom.' 

'  Not  now,  not  now,  good  Isaac.  Whenever  I  apos 
tatize  from  the  faith  of  the  founders  of  my  nation,  and 
deny  the  gods  who  for  more  than  a  thousand  years 
have  stood  guardians  over  Rome,  I  will  not  refuse  to 
weigh  whatever  the  Jew  has  to  offer  in  behalf  of  his 
ancient  creed.  But  I  come  to  thee  now  neither  to  buy 
of  thee,  nor  to  learn  truth  of  thee,  but  to  seek  aid  in  a 
matter  that  lies  near  my  heart.' 

'  Ha !  thy  heathen  god  Cupid  has  ensnared  thee  ! 
Well,  well,  the  young  must  be  humored,  and  men  must 
marry.  It  was  the  counsel  of  my  father,  whose  beard 
came  lower  than  his  girdle,  and  than  whom  the  son  of 
Sirach  had  not  more  wisdom,  "  Meddle  not  nor  make 
in  the  loves  of  others.  God  only  knoweth  the  heart. 
And  how  knowest  thou  that,  in  contriving  happiness, 
thou  shalt  not  engender  sorrow  ? "  Howbeit,  in  many 
things  have  I  departed  from  the  counsel  of  that  venera* 
ble  man.  .4  las  for  it !  Had  my  feet  taken  hold,  in  all 


Z  E  N  0  B  I A  .  75 

their  goings,  of  his  steps,  I  had  not  now  for  my  only 
companion  my  fleet-footed  dromedary,  and  for  my  only 
wealth  this  load  of  gilded  toys.' 

*  Neither  is  it,'  I  rejoined,  'for  any  love-sickness  that 
I  am  come,  seeking  some  healing  or  inflaming  drug, 
but  upon  a  matter  of  somewhat  more  moment.    Listen 
to  me,  while  I  unfold.' 

So  saying,  I  told  all  that  you  already  so  well  know 
in  as  few  words  as  I  could,  but  leaving  out  no  argument 
by  which  I  could  hope  to  work  upon  either  the  cupidity, 
the  benevolence,  or  the  patriotism  of  the  Jew.  He, 
with  his  hands  folded  under  his  beard,  listened  without 
once  interrupting  me,  but  with  an  expression  of  coun 
tenance  so  stolid,  that  when  I  had  ended  I  could  guess 
no  better  than  when  I  began  as  to  the  part  he  would  act. 

After  a  pause  of  some  length,  he  slowly  began,  dis 
coursing  rather  with  himself  than  with  me  :  '  A  large 
enterprise — and  to  be  largely  considered.  The  way  is 
long — seven  hundred  Roman  miles  at  the  least — and 
among  little  other  than  savage  tribes,  save  here  and 
there  a  desert,  where  the  sands,  as  is  reported,  rise  and 
fall  like  the  sea.  How  can  an  old  man  like  me  en 
counter  such  labor  and  peril  ?  These  unbelieving 
heathen  think  not  so  much  of  the  life  of  a  Jew  as  of  a 
dog.  Gentile,  why  goest  thou  not  thyself?' 

'  Thy  skill,  Isaac,  and  knowledge  of  men  and  coun 
tries,  are  more  than  mine,  and  will  stand  thee  in  good 
stead.  Death  were  the  certain  issue,  were  I  to  venture 
upon  this  expedition,  and  then  my  brother's  fate  were 
sealed  forever.' 

*  I  seem  to  thee,  Roman  Piso,  to  be  a  lone  man  in  a 
wide  world,  who  may  live  or  die,  and  there  be  none  to 


76  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

know  or  care  how  it  is.  It  is  verily  much  sok  Yet  I 
was  not  always  alone.  Children  once  leaped  at  the 
sound  of  my  voice,  and  clung  in  sport  to  my  garment. 
They  are  in  Abraham's  bosom, — better  than  here. 
Yet,  Roman,  I  am  not  alone.  The  God  of  Israel  is 
with  me,  and  while  it  is  him  I  serve,  life  is  not  without 
value.  I  trust  in  the  coming  restoration  of  Jerusalem : 
for  that  I  toil,  and  for  that  I  am  ready  to  die.  But  why 
should  my  bones  whiten  the  desert,  or  my  mangled 
carcass  swing  upon  a  Persian  gibbet  ?  Will  that  be  to 
die  for  my  country  ? ' 

*  I  can  enrich  thee  for  thy  services,  Jew,  and  thou 
sayest  that  it  is  for  wealth,  that  it  may  be  poured  into 
the  general  coffers  of  thy  tribe,  that  thou  traversest  the 
globe.  Name  thy  sum,  and  so  it  be  not  beyond  reason, 
I  will  be  bound  to  pay  thee  in  good  Roman  coin.' 

4  This  is  to  be  thought  of.  Doubtless  thou  wouldst 
reward  me  well.  But  consider  how  large  this  sum 
must  be.  I  fear  me  thou  wilt  shrink  from  the  pay 
ment  of  it,  for  a  Roman  noble  loves  not  money  less 
than  a  poor  Jew.  My  trade  in  Ctesiphon  I  lose.  That 
must  be  made  up.  My  faithful  dromedary  will  be 
worn  out  by  the  long  journey :  that  too  must  be  made 
good.  My  plan  will  require  an  attendant  slave  and 
camel :  then  there  are  the  dangers  of  the  way — the 
risk  of  life  in  the  city  of  the  Great  King — and,  if  it  be 
not  cut  off,  the  expenses  of  it.  These,  to  Isaac,  are  not 
great,  but  I  may  be  kept  there  long.' 

'  But  thou  wilt  abate  somewhat  of  the  sum  thou 
hast  determined  upon,  out  of  love  to  thy  kind.  Is 
the  pleasure  of  doing  a  good  deed  nothing  to  thee  ? ' 

4  Not  a  jot  will  I  abate  from  a  just  sum — not  a  jot. 


ZENOBIA.  77 

And  why  should  I  ?  And  thou  art  not  in  earnest  to  ask 
the  abatement  of  a  feather's  weight.  What  doth  the 
Jew  owe  the  Roman  ?  What  hath  the  Roman  done  to 
the  Jew  ?  He  hath  laid  waste  his  country  with  fire  and 
sword.  Her  towns  and  villages  he  hath  levelled  with 
the  ground.  The  holy  Jerusalem  he  hath  spoiled  and 
defiled,  and  then  driven  the  plough  over  its  ruins.  My 
people  are  scattered  abroad  among  all  nations — subject 
every  where  to  persecution  and  death.  This  thou 
knowest  is  what  the  Roman  hath  done.  And  what 
then  owe  I,  a  Jew — a  Jew — to  the  Roman  ?  I  bear 
thee,  Piso,  no  ill  will ;  nay,  I  love  thee ;  but  wert  thou 
Rome,  and  this  wheaten  straw  a  dagger,  it  should  find 
thy  heart !  Nay,  start  not ;  I  would  not  hurt  a  hair 
of  thy  head.  But  tell  me  now  if  thou  agreest  to  my 
terms  :  one  gold  talent  of  Jerusalem  if  I  return  alive 
with  or  without  thy  brother,  and  if  I  perish,  two,  to  be 
paid  as  I  shall  direct.' 

1  Most  heartily,  Isaac,  do  I  agree  to  them,  and  bless 
thee  more  than  words  can  tell,  besides.  Bring  back 
my  brother  alive,  and  whatsoever  thou  shalt  desire 
more,  shall  be  freely  thine.' 

'  I  am  content.  To-morrow  then  I  turn  my  back 
upon  Ctesiphon  and  Palmyra,  and  make  for  Ecbatana. 
Of  my  progress  thou  shalt  learn.  Of  success  I  am 
sure — that  is,  if  thy  brother  hearken  to  the  invitation.' 

Then  giving  such  instructions  as  might  be,  necejssa- 
ry  on  my  part,  we  separated.  st^s 


78  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 


LETTER   IV. 

IF  the  gods,  dear  Marcus  and  Lucilia,  came  down  to 
dwell  upon  earth,  they  could  not  but  choose  Palmyra 
for  their  seat,  both  on  account  of  the  general  beauty  of 
the  city  and  its  surrounding  plains,  and  the  exceeding 
sweetness  and  serenity  of  its  climate.  It  is  a  joy  here 
only  to  sit  still  and  live.  The  air,  always  loaded  with 
perfume,  seems  to  convey  essential  nutriment  to  those 
who  breathe  it ;  and  its  hue,  especially  when  a  morn 
ing  or  evening  sun  shines  through  it,  is  of  that  golden 
cast,  which,  as  poets  feign,  bathes  the  tops  of  Olympus. 
Never  do  we  tremble  here  before  blasts  like  those  which 
from  the  Appenines  sweep  along  the  plains  and  cities 
of  the  Italian  coast.  No  extremes  of  either  heat  or 
cold  are  experienced  in  this  happy  spot.  In  winter, 
airs,  which  in  other  places  equally  far  to  the  north 
would  come  bearing  with  them  an  icy  coldness,  are 
here  tempered  by  the  vast  deserts  of  sand  which  stretch 
away  in  every  direction,  and  which  it  is  said  never 
wholly  lose  the  heat  treasured  up  during  the  fierce 
reign  of  the  summer  sun.  And  in  summer,  the  winds 
which  as  they  pass  over  the  deserts  are  indeed  like  the 
breath  of  a  furnace,  long  before  they  reach  the  city 
change  to  a  cool  and  refreshing  breeze  by  traversing 
as  they  do  the  vast  tracts  of  cultivated  ground,  which, 
as  I  have  already  told  you,  surround  the  capital  to  a 
very  great  extent  on  every  side.  Palmyra  is  the  very 
heaven  of  the  body.  Every  sense  is  fed  to  the  full 
with  that  which  it  chiefly  covets. 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  79 

But  when  I  add  to  this,  that  its  unrivalled  position, 
in  respect  to  a  great  inland  traffic,  has  poured  into  the 
lap  of  its  inhabitants  a  sudden  and  -boundless  flood  of 
wealth,  making  every  merchant  a  prince,  you  will  truly 
suppose,  that  however  heartily  I  extol  it  for  its  out 
ward  beauties,  and  all  the  appliances  of  luxury,  I  do 
not  conceive  it  very  favorable  in  its  influences  upon 
the  character  of  its  population.  Palmyrenes,  charming 
as  they  are,  are  not  Romans.  They  are  enervated  by 
riches,  and  the  luxurious  sensual  indulgences  which 
they  bring  along  by  necessity  in  their  train — all  their 
evil  power  being  here  increased  by  the  voluptuous 
softness  of  the  climate.  I  do  not  say  that  all  are  so. 
All  Rome  cannot  furnish  a  woman  more  truly  Roman 
than  Fausta,  nor  a  man  more  worthy  that  name  than 
Gracchus.  It  is  of  the  younger  portion  of  the  inhab 
itants  I  now  speak.  These  are  without  exception 
effeminate.  They  love  their  country,  and  their  great 
queen,  but  they  are  not  a  defence  upon  which  in  time 
of  need  to  rely.  Neither  do  I  deny  them  courage. 
They  want  something  more  vital  still — bodily  strength 
and  martial  training.  Were  it  not  for  this,  I  should 
almost  fear  for  the  issue  of  any  encounter  between 
Rome  and  Palmyra.  But  as  it  is,  notwithstanding  the 
great  achievements  of  Odenatus  and  Zenobia,  I  cannot 
but  deem  the  glory  of  this  state  to  have  risen  to  its 
highest  p-oint,  and  even  to  have  passed  it.  You  may 
think  me  to  be  hasty  in  forming  this  opinion,  but  I  am 
persuaded  you  will  agree  with  me  when  you  shall  have 
seen  more  at  length  the  grounds  upon  which  I  rest  it, 
as  they  are  laid  down  in  my  last  letter  to  Portia. 

But  I  did  not  mean  to  say  these  things  when  I  sat 


80  ZE  NOBI  A. 

down  to  my  tablets,  but  rather  to  tell  you  of  myself, 
and  what  I  have  seen  and  done  since  I  last  wrote.  I 
have  experienced  and  enjoyed  much.  How  indeed 
could  it  be  otherwise,  in  the  house  of  Gracchus,  and 
with  Gracchus  and  Fausta  for  my  companions  ?  Many 
are  rthe  excursions  we  have  together  taken  into  the 
country,  to  the  neighboring  hills  whence  the  city 
derives  its  ample  supply  of  water,  and  even  to  the  very 
borders  of  the  desert.  I  have  thus  seen  much  of  this 
people,  of  their  pursuits,  and  modes  of  life,  and  I  have 
found  that  whether  they  have  been  of  the  original 
Palmyrene  population — Persian  or  Parthian  emigrants 
' — Jews,  Arabians,  or  even  Romans — they  agree  in  one 
thing,  love  of  their  queen,  and  in  a  determination  to 
defend  her  and  her  capital  to  the  last  extremity,  whether 
against  the  encroachments  of  Persia  or  Rome.  Inde 
pendence  is  their  watchword.  They  have  already 
shown,  in  a  manner  the  most  unequivocal,  and  to  them 
selves  eternally  honorable,  that  they  will  not  be  the 
slaves  of  Sapor,  nor  dependents  upon  his  power.  And 
in  that  they  have  given  at  the  same  time  the  clearest 
proof  of  their  kindly  feeling  toward  us,  and  of  their 
earnest  desire  to  live  at  peace  with  us.  I  truly  hope 
that  no  extravagances  on  the  part  of  the  Queen,  or  her 
too-ambitious  advisers,  will  endanger  the  existing 
tranquillity  ;  yet  from  a  late  occurrence  of  which  I  was 
myself  a  witness  among  other  excited  thousands,  I  am 
filled  with  apprehensions. 

That  to  which  I  allude,  happened  at  the  great 
amphitheatre,  during  an  exhibition  of  games  given  by 
Zenobia  on  the  occasion  of  her  return,  in  which  the 
Palmyrenes,  especially  those  of  Roman  descent,  take 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  81 

great  delight.  I  care,  as  you  know,  nothing  for  them, 
nor  only  that,  abhor  them  for  their  power  to  imbrute 
the  people  accustomed  to  their  spectacles  more  and 
more.  In  this  instance  I  was  persuaded  by  Fausta 
and  Gracchus  to  attend,  as  I  should  see  both  the  Queen 
and  her  subjects  under  favorable  circumstances  to  ob 
tain  new  knowledge  of  their  characters ;  and  I  am  not 
sorry  to  have  been  there. 

The  show  could  boast  all  the  magnificence  of  Rome. 
Nothing  could  exceed  the  excitement  and  tumult  of 
the  city.  Its  whole  population  was  abroad  to  partake 
of  the  general  joy.  Early  in  the  day  the  streets  be 
gan  to  be  thronged  with  the  multitudes  who  were 
either  pouring  along  toward  the  theatre,  to  secure  in 
season  the  best  seats,  or  with  eager  curiosity  pressing 
after  the  cages  of  wild  animals  drawn  by  elephants  or 
camels  toward  the  place  of  combat  and  slaughter.  As 
a  part  of  this  throng,  I  found  myself,  seated  between 
Gracchus  and  Fausta,  in  their  most  sumptuous  chariotA 
themselves  arrayed  in  their  most  sumptuous  attire. 
Oar  horses  could  scarcely  do  more  than  walk,  and 
were  frequently  obliged  to  stand  still,  owing  to  the 
crowds  of  men  on  horse,  on  foot,  and  in  vehicles  of 
every  sort,  which  filled  the  streets.  The  roaring  of 
the  imprisoned  animals,  the  loud  voices  of  their  keep 
ers,  and  of  the  drivers  of  the  cumbrous  wagons  which 
held  them,  the  neighing,  or  screaming  I  might  say,  of 
the  affrighted  horses  every  now  and  then  brought  into 
immediate  contact  with  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forests, 
lions,  tigers  or  leopards,  made  a  scene  of  confusion, 
the  very  counterpart  of  what  we  have  so  often  witness 
ed  in  Rome,  which  always  pains  more  than  it  pleases 
VOL.  i.  8 


82  ZE  NO  BIA. 

me,  and  which  I  now  describe  at  all,  only  that  you 
may  believe  what  Romans  are  so  slow  to  believe,  that 
there  are  other  cities  in  the  world  where  great  actions 
are  done  as  well  as  in  their  own.  The  inhabitants  of 
Palmyra  are  as  quick  as  you  could  desire  them  to  be, 
in  catching  the  vices  and  fashions  of  the  great  metro 
polis. 

'  Scipio,  Scipio,'  cried  Gracchus  suddenly  to  his 
charioteer,  '  be  not  in  too  great  haste.  It  is  in  vain  to 
attempt  to  pass  that  wagon ;  nay,  unless  you  shall  be 
a  little  more  reserved  in  your  approaches,  the  paw  of 
that  tawny  Numidian  will  find  its  way  to  the  neck  of 
our  favorite  Arab.  The  bars  of  his  cage  are  over  far 
apart.' 

*  I  almost  wish  they  were  yet  farther  apart,'  said  I, 
'  and  that  he  might  fairly  find  his  way  into  the  thickest 
of  this  foolish  crowd,  and  take  a  short  revenge  upon 
his  civilized  tormentors.  What  a  spectacle  is  this — 
more  strange  and  savage,  I  think,  looked  upon  aright, 
than  that  which  we  are  going  to  enjoy — of  you,  Grac 
chus,  a  pillar  of  a  great  kingdom  ;  of  me,  a  pillar — a 
lesser  one,  indeed,  but  still  a  pillar — of  a  greater 
kingdom  ;  and  of  you,  Fausta,  a  woman,  all  on  our 
way  to  see  wild  beasts  let  loose  to  lacerate  and  destroy 
each  other,  and  what  is  worse,  gladiators,  that  is,  edu 
cated  murderers,  set  upon  one  another,  to  die  for  our 
entertainment.  The  best  thing  I  have  heard  of  the 
Christian  superstition  is,  that  it  utterly  denounces  and 
prohibits  to  its  disciples  the  frequenting  of  these  shows. 
Nothing  to  me  is  plainer  than  that  we  may  trace  the 
cruelties  of  Marius,  Sylla,  and  their  worthy  imitators 
through  the  long  line  of  our  Emperors,  to  these  schools 


ZENOBIA.  83 

where  they  had  their  early  training.  Why  were  Do- 
mitian  and  his  fly  worse  than  Gracchus,  or  Piso,  or 
Fausta,  and  their  gored  elephant,  or  dying  gladiator  ? ' 

'  You  take  this  custom  too  seriously,'  replied  Grac 
chus.  '  I  see  in  it,  so  far  as  the  heasts  are  concerned, 
but  a  lawful  source  of  pleasure.  If  they  tore  not  one 
another  in  pieces  for  our  entertainment,  they  would 
still  do  it  for  their  own,  in  their  native  forests ;  and  if 
it  must  be  done,  it  were  a  pity  none  enjoyed  it.  Then 
for  the  effects  upon  the  beholding  crowd,  I  am  inclined 
to  think  they  are  rather  necessary  and  wholesome  than 
otherwise.  They  help  to  render  men  insensible  to 
danger,  suffering,  and  death ;  and  as  we  are  so  often 
called  upon  to  fight  each  other,  and  die  in  defence  of 
our  liberties,  or  of  our  tyrants  and  oppressors,  which 
ever  it  may  be,  it  seems  to  me  we  are  in  need  of  some 
such  initiatory  process  in  the  art  of  seeing  blood  shed 
unmoved,  and  of  some  lessons  which  shall  diminish 
our  love  and  regard  for  life.  As  for  the  gladiators, 
they  are  wretches  who  are  better  dead  than  alive  ; 
and  to  die  in  the  excitement  of  a  combat  is  not  worse, 
perhaps,  than  to  expire  through  the  slow  and  lingering 
assaults  of  a  painful  disease.  Besides,  with  us  there 
is  never,  as  with  you,  cool  and  deliberate  murder  per 
petrated  on  the  part  of  the  assembly.  There  is  here 
no  turning  up  of  the  thumb.  It  is  all  honorable  fight 
ing,  and  honorable  killing.  What,  moreover,  shall  be 
done  to  entertain  the  people  ?  We  must  feed  them 
with  some  such  spectacles,  or  I  verily  think  they  would 
turn  upon  each  other  for  amusement,  in  civil  broil  and 
slaughter.' 

*  Your  Epicurean   philosophy  teaches  you,  I  am 


84  ZE  NOBI  A. 

aware,'  said  I  in  reply,  *  to  draw  happiness  as  you  best 
can  from  all  the  various  institutions  of  Providence  and 
of  man — not  to  contend  but  to  receive,  and  submit, 
and  be  thankful.  It  is  a  philosophy  well  enough  for 
man's  enjoyment  of  the  passing  hour,  but  it  fatally 
obstructs,  it  appears  to  me,  the  way  of  improvement. 
For  my  own  part,  though  I  am  no  philosopher,  yet  I 
hold  to  this,  that  whatever  our  reason  proves  to  be 
wrong  or  defective,  it  at  the  same  time  enforces  the 
duty  of  change  and  reform — that  no  palpable  evil, 
either  in  life  or  government,  is  to  be  passively  submit 
ted  to  as  incurable.  In  these  spectacles  I  behold  an 
enormous  wrong,  a  terrific  evil ;  and  though  I  see  not 
how  the  wrong  is  to  be  redressed,  nor  the  evil  to  be 
removed,  I  none  the  less,  but  so  much  the  more,  con 
ceive  it  to  be  my  part,  as  a  man  and  a  citizen,  to  think 
and  converse,  as  now,  upon  the  subject,  in  the  hope 
that  some  new  light  may  dawn  upon  its  darkness. 
What  think  you,  Fausta  ?  I  hope  you  agree  with  me 
— nay,  as  to  that,  I  think  Gracchus,  from  his  tone,  was 
but  half  in  earnest.' 

'  It  has  struck  me  chiefly,'  said  Fausta,  *  as  a  foolish 
custom  ;  not  so  much  in  itself  very  wrong,  as  childish. 
It  is  to  me  indeed  attended  with  pain,  but  that  I  sup 
pose  is  a  weakness  of  my  own — it  seems  not  to  be  so 
in  the  case  of  others.  I  have  thought  it  a  poor,  barren 
entertainment,  fit  but  for  children,  and  those  grown 
children  whose  minds,  uninstructed  in  higher  things, 
must  seek  their  happiness  in  some  spring  of  mere 
sensual  joy.  Women  frequent  the  amphitheatre,  I  am 
sure,  rather  to  make  a  show  of  their  beauty,  their 
dress,  and  equipage,  than  for  any  thing  else  ;  and  they 


ZENOBIA.  85 

would,  I  believe,  easily  give  in  to  any  change,  so  it 
should  leave  them  an  equally  fair  occasion  of  display. 
But  so  far  as  attending  the  spectacles  tends  to  make 
better  soldiers,  and  stouter  defenders  of  our  Queen,  I 
confess,  Lucius,  I  look  upon  them  with  some  favor. 
But  come,  our  talk  is  getting  to  be  a  little  too  grave. 
Look,  Lucius,  if  this  be  not  a  brave  sight  ?  See  what 
a  mass  of  life  encompasses  the  circus !  And  its  vast 
walls,  from  the  lowest  entrances  to  its  very  summit, 
swarm  as  it  were  with  the  whole  population  of  Pal 
myra.  It  is  not  so  large  a  building  as  your  Flavian, 
but  it  is  not  wholly  unworthy  to  be  compared  with  it.' 

'  It  is  not,  indeed,'  said  I ;  '  although  not  so  large,  its 
architecture  is  equally  in  accordance  with  the  best 
principles,  both  of  science  and  taste,  and  the  stone  is 
of  a  purer  white,  and  more  finely  worked.' 

We  now  descended  from  our  carriage,  and  made  our 
way  through  the  narrow  passages  and  up  the  narrow 
stairways  to  the  interior  of  the  theatre,  which  was 
already  much  more  than  half  filled.  The  seats  to  which 
we  were  conducted  were  not  far  from  those  which  were 
to  be  occupied  by  the  Queen  and  her  train.  I  need 
not  tell  you  how  the  time  was  passed  which  intervened 
between  taking  our  seats,  the  filling  of  the  theatre,  and 
the  commencement  of  the  games — how  we  all  were 
amused  by  the  fierce  strugglings  of  those  who  most 
wished  to  exhibit  themselves,  for  the  best  places ;  by 
the  efforts  of  many  to  cause  themselves  to  be  recognised 
by  those  who  were  of  higher  rank  than  themselves,  and 
to  avoid  the  neighborhood  and  escape  the  notice  of 
others  whose  acquaintance  would  bring  them  no  credit ; 
how  we  laughed  at  the  awkwar d  movements  and  labors 
VOL.  i.  8* 


86  ZE  NO  BIA. 

of  the  servants  of  the  circus,  who  were  busying  them 
selves  in  giving  its  final  smoothness  to  the  saw-dust 
and  hurrying  through  the  last  little  offices  of  so  vast  a 
preparation,  urged  on  continually  by  the  voices  or 
lashes  of  the  managers  of  the  games ;  nor  how  our  ears 
were  deafened  by  the  fearful  yellings  of  the  maddened 
beasts  confined  in  the  vivaria,  the  grated  doors  of  which 
opened,  as  in  the  Roman  buildings  of  the  same  kind, 
immediately  on  the  arena.  Neither  will  I  inflict  weari 
ness  upon  myself  or  you,  by  a  detailed  account  of  the 
kind  and  order  of  the  games  at  this  time  exhibited  for 
the  entertainment  of  the  people.  The  whole  show 
was  an  exact  copy  from  the  usages  of  Rome.  I  could 
hardly  believe  myself  in  the  heart  of  Asia.  Touching 
only  on  these  things  so  familiar  to  you,  I  will  relate 
what  I  was  able  to  observe  of  the  Queen  and  her  de 
meanor,  about  which  I  know  you  will  feel  chiefly 
desirous  of  information. 

It  was  not  till  after  the  games  had  been  some  time  in 
progress,  and  the  wrestlers  and  mock-fighters  having 
finished  their  foolish  feats,  the  combats  of  wild  animals 
with  each  other  had  commenced,  that  a  herald  announced 
by  sound  of  trumpet  the  approach  of  the  Queen.  The 
moment  that  sound,  and  the  loud  clang  of  martial 
music  which  followed  it,  was  heard,  every  eye  of  the 
vast  multitude  was  turned  to  the  part  of  the  circus  where 
we  were  sitting,  and  near  which  was  the  passage  by 
which  Zenobia  would  enter  the  theatre.  The  animals 
now  tore  each  other  piecemeal,  unnoticed  by  the  impa 
tient  throng.  A  greater  care  possessed  them.  And  no 
sooner  did  the  object  of  this  universal  expectation  reveal 
herself  to  their  sight,  led  to  her  seat  by  the  dark  Zab- 


ZENOBIA.  87 

das,  followed  by  the  Princess  Julia  and  Longinus,  and 
accompanied  by  a  crowd  of  the  rank  and  beauty  of 
Palmyra,  than  one  enthusiastic  cry  of  loyalty  and  affec 
tion  rent  the  air,  drowning  all  other  sounds,  and  causing 
the  silken  canopy  of  the  amphitheatre  to  sway  to  and 
fro  as  if  shaken  by  a  tempest.  The  very  foundations 
of  the  huge  structure  seemed  to  tremble  in  their  places. 
With  what  queenly  dignity,  yet  with  what  enchanting 
sweetness,  did  the  great  Zenobia  acknowledge  the 
greetings  of  her  people  !  The  color  of  her  cheek 
mounted  and  fell  again,  even  as  it  would  have  done  in 
a  young  girl,  and  glances  full  of  sensibility  and  love 
went  from  her  to  every  part  of  the  boundless  interior, 
and  seemed  to  seek  out  every  individual  and  to  each 
make  a  separate  return  for  the  hearty  welcome  with 
which  she  had  been  received.  These  mutual  courtesies 
being  quickly  ended,  the  games  again  went  on,  and 
every  eye  was  soon  riveted  on  the  arena  where  ani 
mals  were  contending  with  each  other  or  with  men. 

The  multitude  being  thus  intently  engaged,  those 
who  chose  to  employ  their  time  differently  were  left  at 
full  liberty  to  amuse  themselves  with  conversation  or 
otherwise,  as  it  pleased  them.  Many  a  fat  and  un 
wieldy  citizen  we  saw  soundly  sleeping  in  spite  of  the 
roarings  of  the  beasts  and  the  shouts  of  the  spectators. 
Others,  gathering  together  in  little  societies  of  their 
own,  passed  all  the  intervals  between  the  games,  as 
well  as  the  time  taken  up  by  games  which  gave  them 
no  pleasure,  in  discussing  with  one  another  the  fash 
ions,  the  news,  or  the  politics  of  the  day.  Of  these 
parties  we  were  one ;  for  neither  Gracchus,  nor  Fausta, 
nor  I,  cared  much  for  the  sports  of  the  day,  and  there 


ZE  NOBI A . 


were  few  foolish  or  wise  things  that  were  not  uttered 
by  one  of  us  during  the  continuance  of  those  tedious, 
never-ending  games. 

*  Well,  Lucius,'  said  Fausta,  '  and  what  think  you 
now  of  our  great  Queen  ?  For  the  last  half  hour  your 
eyes  having  scarcely  wandered  from  her,  you  must  by 
this  time  be  prepared  with  an  opinion.' 

'  There  can  be  little  interest,'  said  I,  '  in  hearing  an 
opinion  on  a  subject  about  which  all  the  world  is 
agreed.  I  can  only  say,  what  all  say.  I  confess  I 
have  never  before  seen  a  woman.  I  am  already  pre 
pared  to  love  and  worship  her  with  you,  for  I  am  sure 
that  such  pre-eminent  beauty  exists  in  company  with 
a  goodness  that  corresponds  to  it.  Her  intellect  too 
we  know  is  not  surpassed  in  strength  by  that  of  any 
philosopher  of  the  East.  These  things  being  so, 
where  in  the  world  can  we  believe  there  is  a  woman 
to  be  compared  with  her  ?  As  for  Cleopatra,  she  is 
not  worthy  to  be  named.' 

As  I  uttered  these  things  with  animation  and  vehe 
mence,  showing  I  suppose  in  my  manner  how  deeply 
I  felt  all  that  I  said,  I  perceived  Fausta's  fine  counte 
nance  glowing  with  emotion,  and  tears  of  gratified  affec 
tion  standing  in  her  eyes. 

Gracchus  spoke.  '  Piso,'  said  he, '  I  do  not  wonder 
at  the  enthusiastic  warmth  of  your  language.  Chilled 
as  my  blood  is  by  the  approaches  of  age,  I  feel  even  as 
you  do  :  nay,  I  suppose  I  feel  much  more  ;  for  to  all 
your  admiration,  as  a  mere  philosophical  observer,  there 
is  added  in  my  case  the  fervid  attachment  which  springs 
from  long  and  intimate  knowledge,  and  from  an  inter 
course,  which  not  the  coolness  of  a  single  hour  has  ever 


ZE  NOBI  A  .  89 

interrupted.  It  would  be  strange  indeed  if  there  were 
not  one  single  flaw  in  so  bright  an  emanation  from  the 
very  soul  of  the  divinity,  wearing  as  it  does  the  form 
of  humanity.  I  allude  to  her  ambition.  It  is  bound 
less,  almost  insane.  Caesar  himself  was  not  more  am 
bitious.  But  in  her  even  this  is  partly  a  virtue,  even 
in  its  wildest  extravagance  ;  for  it  is  never  for  herself 
alone  that  she  reaches  so  far  and  so  high,  but  as  much 
or  more  for  her  people.  She  never  separates  herself 
from  them,  even  in  thought,  and  all  her  aspirings  are, 
that  she  herself  may  be  great  indeed,  but  that  her 
country  may  with  and  through  her  be  great  also,  and 
her  people  happy.  When  I  see  her  as  now  surrounded 
by  her  subjects,  and  lodged  in  their  very  heart  of  hearts, 
I  wish — and  fervently  would  I  pray,  were  there  gods 
to  implore — that  her  restless  spirit  may  be  at  peace, 
and  that  she  may  seek  no  higher  good  either  for  herself 
or  her  people  than  that  which  we  now  enjoy.  But  I 
confess  myself  to  be  full  of  apprehension.  I  tremble 
for  my  country.  And  yet  here  is  my  little  rebel,  Fausta, 
who  will  not  hearken  to  this,  but  adds  the  fuel  of  her 
own  fiery  spirit  to  feed  that  of  her  great  mistress.  It 
were  beyond  a  doubt  a  good  law  which  should  exclude 
women  from  any  part  in  public  affairs.' 

*  Dear  father,  how  do  you  remind  me  of  the  elder 
Cato,  in  the  matter  of  the  Oppian  Law  :  while  women 
interfered  in  public  affairs,  only  to  promote  the  interests 
of  their  worthy  husbands,  the  lords  of  the  world,  the 
great  Cato  had  never  thought  but  to  commend  them  ; 
but  no  sooner  did  they  seek  to  secure  some  privileges 
very  dear  to  them  as  women,  and  clamor  a  little  in  order 
to  obtain  them,  than  straightway  they  were  nuisances 


90  ZEN  OBIA. 

in  the  body  politic,  and  ought  to  be  restrained  by  enact 
ments  from  having  any  voice  in  the  business  of  the 
state.  Truly  I  think  this  is  far  from  generous  treat 
ment.  And  happy  am  I,  for  one,  that  at  length  the 
gods  in  their  good  providence  have  permitted  that  one 
woman  should  arise  to  vindicate  her  sex  against  the 
tyranny  of  their  ancient  oppressors  and  traducers.  If 
I  might  appoint  to  the  spirits  of  the  departed  their  offices, 
I  could  wish  nothing  merrier  than  that  that  same  Cato 
should  be  made  the  news-carrier  from  the  kingdom  of 
Zenobia  to  the  council  of  the  gods.  How- he  would 
enjoy  his  occupation !  But  seriously,  dear  father,  I 
see  not  that  our  Queen  has  any  more  of  this  same  am 
bition  than  men  are  in  a  similar  position  permitted  to 
have,  and  accounted  all  the  greater  for  it.  Is  that  a 
vice  in  Zenobia  which  is  a  glory  in  Aurelian  ?  Longi- 
nus  would  not  decide  so.  Observe  how  intent  the 
Queen  is  upon  the  games.' 

4 1  would  rather,'  said  I,  '  that  she  should  not  gaze 
upon  so  cruel  a  sight.  But  see !  the  Princess  Julia 
has  hidden  her  head  in  the  folds  of  her  veil.' 

'  Julia's  heart,'  said  Fausta,  'is  even  tenderer  than  a 
woman's.  Besides,  if  I  mistake  not,  she  has  on  this 
point  at  least  adopted  some  of  the  notions  of  the  Chris 
tians.  Paul  of  Antioch  has  not  been  without  his  power 
over  her.  And  truly  his  genius  is  well  nigh  irresisti 
ble.  A  stronger  intellect  than  hers  might  without  shame 
yield  to  his.  Look,  look ! — the  elephant  will  surely 
conquer  after  all.  The  gods  grant  he  may  !  He  is  a 
noble  creature  ;  but  how  cruelly  beset !  Three  such 
foes  are  too  much  for  a  fair  battle.  How  he  has 
wreathed  his  trunk  round  that  tiger,  and  now  whirls 


ZE  NO  BI  A.  91 

him  in  the  air  !  But  the  rhinoceros  sees  his  advantage  : 
quick — quick  ! ' 

Fausta,  too,  could  not  endure  the  savage  sight,  but 
turned  her  head  away  ;  for  the  huge  rhinoceros,  as  the 
elephant  lifted  the  tiger  from  the  ground,  in  the  act  to 
dash  him  again  to  the  earth,  seized  the  moment,  and 
before  the  noble  animal  could  recover  himself,  buried 
his  enormous  tusk  deep  in  his  vitals.  It  was  fatal  to 
both,  for  the  assailant,  unable  to  extricate  his  horn,  was 
crushed  through  every  bone  in  his  body,  by  the  weight 
of  the  falling  elephant.  A  single  tiger  remained  mas 
ter  of  the  field,  who  now  testified  his  joy  by  cours 
ing  round  and  round  the  arena. 

*  Well,  well,'  said  Gracchus, '  they  would  have  died  in 
the  forest ;  what  signifies  it  ?  But  why  is  this  blast  of 
trumpets  ?  It  is  the  royal  flourish!  Ah !  I  see  how  it  is  ; 
the  sons  of  Zenobia,  whom  none  miss  not  being  present, 
are  about  to  enter  the  theatre.  They  make  amends  by 
the  noise  of  their  approach  for  their  temporary  absence. 
Yet  these  distant  shouts  are  more  than  usual.  The 
gods  grant  that  none  of  my  fears  may  turn  true ! ' 

No  sooner  had  Gracchus  ended  these  words,  while 
his  face  grew  pale  with  anxious  expectation,  than  sud 
denly  the  three  sons  of  the  Queen  made  their  appear 
ance,  and — how  shall  I  say  it  ? — arrayed  in  imperial 
purple,  and  habited  in  all  respects  as  Caesars.  It  seem 
ed  to  me  as  if  at  that  very  moment  the  pillars  of  this 
flourishing  empire  crumbled  to  their  foundation.  And 
now  while  I  write,  and  the  heat  of  that  moment  is 
passed,  I  cannot  but  predict  disaster  and  ruin,  at  least 
fierce  and  desolating  wars,  as  the  consequence  of  the 
rash  act.  I  know  the  soul  of  Aurelian,  and  that  it  will 


92  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

never  brook  what  it  shall  so  much  as  dream  to  be  an 
indignity — never  endure  so  much  as  the  thought  of 
rivalry  in  another,  whether  Roman  or  foreigner,  man 
or  woman.  To  think  it  is  treason  with  him — a  crime 
for  which  blood  only  can  atone. 

Having  entered  thus  the  amphitheatre,  assuming  a 
high  and  haughty  bearing,  as  if  they  were  already 
masters  of  the  world,  they  advanced  to  the  front  railing, 
and  there  received  the  tumultuous  acclamations  of  the 
people.  A  thousand  different  cries  filled  the  air.  Each 
uttered  the  sentiment  which  possessed  him,  regardless 
of  all  but  testifying  loyalty  and  devotion  to  the  reigning 
house.  Much  of  the  language  was  directed  against 
Rome,  which,  since  the  circulation  of  the  rumors  of 
which  I  have  already  spoken,  has  become  the  object  of 
their  most  jealous  regard.  Aurelian's  name  was  coupled 
with  every  term  of  reproach.  *  Is  Aurelian  to  possess 
the  whole  earth  ? '  cried  one.  '  Who  are  Romans  ? ' 
cried  another ;  '  the  story  of  Valerian  shows  that  they 
are  not  invincible.'  '  We  will  put  Zabdas  and  Zenobia 
against  the  world  ! '  shouted  others.  *  The  conqueror 
of  Egypt  forever  ! — long  live  the  great  Zabdas!'  rose 
from  every  quarter.  It  were  in  vain  to  attempt  to 
remember  or  write  down  half  the  violent  things  which 
in  this  hour  of  madness  were  uttered.  The  games 
were  for  a  long  time  necessarily  suspended,  and  the 
whole  amphitheatre  was  converted  into  an  arena  of 
political  discussion,  from  which  arose  the  confused  din 
of  unnumbered  voices,  like  the  roar  of  the  angry  ocean. 
I  looked  at  Zenobia  ;  she  was  calm — satisfied.  Pride 
was  upon  her  lip  and  brow.  So  like  a  god  was  the 
expression  of  her  whole  form,  that  for  a  moment  I  al- 
almost  wished  her  mistress  of  the  world.  She  seemed 


ZENOBIA.  93 

worthy  to  reign.  Julia  was  evidently  sad,  and  almost 
distressed;  Longinus,  impenetrable  as  marble;  Zabdas, 
black  and  lowering  as  night. 

Quiet  was  at  length  restored,  and  the  games  went 
on. 

A  messenger  came  now  from  the  Queen  to  our  seat, 
with  the  request  that  Fausta  should  join  her,  not  being 
satisfied  with  the  distant  intercourse  of  looks  and  signs. 
So,  accompanied  by  Gracchus,  she  was  soon  placed  by 
the  side  of  Zenobia,  whose  happiness  seemed  doubled 
by  the  society  of,  I  believe,  her  choicest  friend.  Left 
now  to  myself,  I  had  leisure  to  think  and  to  observe. 
A  more  gorgeous  show  than  this  vast  assembly  pre 
sented,  I  think  I  never  before  beheld — no,  not  even  in 
the  Flavian.  Although  in  Rome  we  seem  to  draw 
together  people  of  all  regions  and  all  climes,  yet  after 
all  the  North  and  West  preponderate,  and  we  lack  the 
gayer  costumes  which  a  larger  proportion  of  these 
Orientals  would  add  to  our  spectacles.  Not  to  say  too, 
that  here  in  the  East  the  beauty  of  woman  is  more 
transcendent,  and  the  forms  of  the  men  cast  in  a  finer 
mould.  Every  variety  of  complexion  is  here  also  to 
be  seen,  from  the  jet  black  of  the  slender  Ethiopian, 
to  the  more  than  white  of  the  women  of  the  Danube. 
Here  I  saw  before  me,  in  one  promiscuous  throng,  ar 
rayed  in  their  national  dresses,  Persians,  dark-skinned 
Indians,  swarthy  Egyptians,  the  languishing,  soft-eyed 
Syrian,  nymphs  from  the  borders  of  the  Caspian,  women 
of  the  Jews  from  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean, 
Greeks  from  Asia  Minor,  the  Islands,  and  Attica,  with 
their  classic  costume  and  statue-like  forms  and  faces, 
Romans,  and,  abounding  over  all  arid  more  beautiful 
VOL.  i.  9 


94  Z  B  N  0  B  I  A  . 

than  all,  the  richly-habited  nobles  and  gentry  of  Pal 
myra  itself.  I  enjoyed  the  scene  as  a  man  and  a 
philosopher  ;  nay,  as  a  Roman  too  :  and  could  not  but 
desire  earnestly,  that  the  state,  of  whose  prosperity  it 
was  so  clear  a  token,  might  last  even  with  Rome  itself. 
I  wished  you  and  Lucilia  at  my  side — not  to  mention 
the  little  Gallus — not,  as  you  may  believe,  to  witness 
the  games,  but  to  behold  in  this  remote  centre  of  Asia 
so  fair  a  show  of  our  common  race. 

It  was  not  till  the  sun  was  already  about  to  sink  in 
the  west,  that  the  games  ended,  and  the  crowds  dispers 
ed,  and  I  once  more  found  myself  in  the  peaceful  pre 
cincts  of  home ;  for  so  already  do  I  call  the  hospitable 
dwelling  of  Gracchus. 

'  So,  Fausta,'  said  I,  '  you  forsook  your  old  friend 
Lucius  for  the  companionship  of  a  queen  ?  Truly  I 
cannot  blame  you,  for  most  gladly  would  I  too  have 
gone  and  made  one  of  your  circle.  How  irksome  are 
the  forms  and  restraints  of  station,  and  even  of  society! 
how  little  freedom  do  they  allow  in  the  expression  of 
our  real  sentiments !  Could  I  have  sat  with  you  by 
Zenobia,  can  I  doubt  that  by  a  frank  disclosure  of  my 
feelings  and  opinions,  I  could  have  corrected  some 
errors,  softened  some  prejudices,  and  at  the  same  time 
gained  her  esteem — her  esteem  for  me,  I  mean,  as  a 
sincere  well-wisher  to  her  kingdom,  although  none 
the  less  a  Roman  ?  It  would  have  been  a  fortunate 
moment  for  such  communication  as  I  desire.  I  trust 
yet,  seeing  such  a  promise  has  gone  forth  from  you,  to 
see  her  in  her  own  palace.' 

*  Indeed  you  shall,'  said  Fausta ;  '  it  has  only  been 
owing  to  fatigue,  after  her  long  excursion,  and  to  this 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  95 

show  of  games,  that  you  have  not  seen  her  long  before 
this.  She  is  well  aware  of  your  rank  and  footing  of 
intimacy  with  Aurelian,  and  of  the  object  for  which 
you  make  this  visit  to  her  capital,  and  has  expressed 
frequent  and  earnest  desires  of  an  interview  with  you. 
And  now  have  I  a  great  mind  not  to  tell  you  of  the 
speedy  pleasure  and  honor  that  await  you.  What  will 
you  give  to  know  the  tenor  of  what  I  have  to  say  ? ' 

'  I  will  confer  the  greatest  honor  in  my  power,'  said 
I :  '  I  will  dislodge  the  Emperor  from  my  own  finger 
and  replace  him  upon  yours.  Here  I  offer  you  the 
head  of  Aurelian — cut,  not  indeed  by  the  cunning  tool 
of  Demetrius  of  Rome,  but  doubtless  by  some  competent 
artist.  Is  it  not  a  fair  offer,  Gracchus  ? ' 

'  I  fear  unless  you  make  a  different  and  a  better  one, 
you  will  scarce  open  the  lips  of  our  fierce  patriot,' 
answered  Gracchus. 

'  That  will  he  not,'  said  Fausta  ;  '  were  he  to  engage 
by  to-morrow  to  make  himself  over  into  a  veritable, 
sound-hearted,  queen-loving  Palmyrene,  it  would  not 
be  more  than  he  ought  to  do.  I  am  sure,  old  Solon 
toiled  hard  to  make  a  Roman  out  of  me,  and  how  do  I 
know  but  it  was  at  your  instance  ?  And  it  having  been 
so,  as  I  must  believe,  what  less  can  you  do  in  atonement 
than  to  plant  yourself  here  upon  the  soil  of  Palmyra  ? 
A  Roman,  trust  me,  takes  quick  root  in  this  rich  earth, 
and  soon  shoots  up  and  spreads  out  into  a  perfectly 
proportioned  Palmyrene,  tall  and  beautiful  as  a  date 
tree.  Father,  how  can  we  bribe  him  ?  You  shake 
your  head  as  if  without  hope.  Well,  let  us  wait  till 
Calpurnius  returns ;  when  you  find  him  an  Oriental, 
perhaps  you  may  be  induced  to  emigrate  too.  Surely 


96  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

it  is  no  such  great  matter  to  remove  from  Rome  to 
Palmyra.  We  do  not  ask  you  to  love  Rome  any  the 
less,  but  only  Palmyra  more.  I  still  trust  we  shall 
ever  dwell  in  friendship  with  each  other.  We  certainly 
must  desire  it,  who  are  half  Roman.  But  why  do  I 
keep  you  in  such  painful  suspense  ?  Hear,  then,  my 
message,  which  is,  that  you  will  appear  at  the  palace 
of  Zenobia  to-morrow.  The  Queen  desires  a  private 
interview  with  you,  and  for  that  purpose  will  receive 
no  other  visitors.  Her  messenger  will  in  the  morning 
apprize  you  of  the  hour,  and  conduct  you  to  the  palace  ! 
Ah !  I  see  by  your  countenance  how  delighted  you 
are.  It  is  no  wonder.' 

'  I  am  delighted,  indeed,'  said  I ;  *  that  is  a  part  of 
my  feeling,  but  not  the  whole  of  it.  I  cannot,  accus 
tomed  even  as  I  have  been  to  associate  with  the  high 
in  rank  and  intellect  in  various  countries,  without  some 
inward  perturbation,  think  of  meeting  for  the  first  time 
so  remarkable  a  person;  one  whose  name  is  known 
not  only  throughout  Asia,  but  the  world ;  and  whose 
genius  and  virtues  are  the  theme  of  universal  wonder 
and  praise.  Then,  Fausta,  Zenobia  is  a  woman,  and 
a  woman  inspires  an  awe  which  man  never  doe,s  ;  and 
what  is  more  yet,  she  is  of  a  marvellous  beauty,  and 
before  that  most  perfect  work  of  the  gods,  a  beautiful 
woman,  I  am  apt  to  be  awkward  and  dumb ;  at  the 
least — which  perhaps  is  it — made  to  think  too  much 
of  myself  to  acquit  myself  well.  You  may  think  that 
I  exaggerate  these  feelings.  Possibly  I  do.  Certainly 
they  are  not  of  such  strength  that  I  do  not  gladly  seize 
upon  the  favor  thus  extended,  and  count  myself  honored 
and  happy.' 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  97 

*  Where,  Lucius,  tell  me  where  you  learned  this  new 
dialect,  which  runs  so  sweetly  when  woman  is  the 
theme.  Sure  am  I,  it  is  not  Roman.  Ovid  has  it  not. 
Nor  yet  is  it  Palmyrene.  Do  we  owe  it  to  a  rich 
invention  of  your  own  ? ' 

'  Fausta,  I  am  in  earnest  in  what  I  have  said.  It  is 
my  own  native  dialect — instinctive.  Therefore  laugh 
not,  but  give  me  a  lesson  how  I  shall  deport  myself. 
Remember  the  lessons  I  have  so  many  times  given  you 
in  Rome,  and  now  that  you  have  risen  into  the  seat  of 
power,  return  them  as  you  are  bound  to  do.' 

'  Now  are  you  both  little  more  than  two  foolish 
children,  but  just  escaped  from  the  nursery,'  cried 
Gracchus,  who  had  been  pacing  up  and  down  the  por 
tico,  little  heeding,  to  all  appearance,  what  was  going 
on.  *  Lucius,  ask  no  advice  of  that  wild  school-girl. 
Listen  to  me,  who  am  a  counsellor,  and  of  age,  and 
ought,  if  I  do  not,  to  speak  the  words  of  wisdom.  Take 
along  with  thee  nothing  but  thy  common  sense,  and 
an  honest  purpose,  and  then  Venus  herself  would  not 
daunt  thee,  nor  Rhadamanthus  and  the  Furies  terrify. 
Forget  not  too,  that  beneath  this  exterior  covering,  first 
of  clothes,  and  then  of  flesh,  there  lies  enshrined  in  the 
breast  of  Zenobia,  as  of  you  and  me,  a  human  heart, 
and  that  this  is  ever  and  in  all  the  same,  eternally 
responsive  to  the  same  notes,  by  whomsoever  struck. 
This  is  a  great  secret.  Believe  too,  that  in  our  good 
Queen  this  heart  is  pure  as  a  child's  ;  or,  if  I  may  use 
another  similitude,  and  you  can  understand  it,  pure  as 
a  Christian's — rather,  perhaps,  as  a  Christian's  ought 
to  be.  Take  this  also,  that  the  high  tremble  to  meet 
the  low,  as  often  as  the  low  to  meet  the  high.  Now 
VOL.  T.  9* 


98  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

ask  no  more  counsel  of  Fausta,  but  digest  what  the 
oracle  has  given  out,  and  which  now  for  the  night  is 
silent.' 

In  this  sportive  mood  we  separated. 

At  the  appointed  hour  on  the  following  day,  the 
expected  messenger  appeared,  and  announcing  the 
Queen's  pleasure  that  I  should  attend  her  at  the  palace, 
conducted  me  there  with  as  much  of  state  as  if  I  had 
been  Aurelian's  ambassador. 

On  arriving  at  the  palace,  I  was  ushered  into  an 
apartment,  not  large,  but  of  exquisite  architecture,  fin 
ished  and  furnished  in  the  Persian  taste,  where  sat 
Zenobia  and  Julia.  At  the  feet  of  the  Queen,  and 
supporting  them  upon  an  embroidered  cushion  of  silk, 
there  lay  crouched  a  beautiful  Indian  slave.  If  it  was 
her  office  to  bear  that  light  and  pretty  burden,  it  seem 
ed  to  be  her  pleasure  too ;  for  she  was  ever  weaving 
round  it  in  playful  manner  her  jewelled  fingers  ;  cast 
ing  upwards  to  her  mistress  frequent  glances  of  most 
affectionate  regard. 

'  Noble  Piso,'  said  the  Queen,  after  I  had  approached 
and  saluted  her  in  the  appointed  manner,  '  it  gives  me 
pleasure  to  greet  one  of  your  ancient  name  in  Palmyra. 
I  seem  already  acquainted  with  you  through  my  fast 
friends  Gracchus  and  his  bright  daughter.  You  have 
lost  nothing,  I  am  sure,  in  coming  to  us*  first  through 
their  lips  ;  and  if  any  lips  are  honest  and  true,  it  is 
theirs.  We  welcome  you  to  the  city  of  the  desert.' 

'  Great  Queen,'  I  replied,  '  it  is  both  a  pleasure  and 
a  pain  to  find  myself  in  your  brilliant  capital.  I  left 
Rome  upon  a  melancholy  errand,  which  I  have  as  yet 


ZENOBIA.  99 

but  half  accomplished.  Till  success  shall  crown  it,  I 
can  but  half  enjoy  the  novel  scenes,  full  of  interest  and 
beauty,  which  your  kingdom  and  city  present.  It  was 
to  rescue  a  brother — if  I  may  speak  for  one  moment 
of  myself — held  in  captivity  since  the  disaster  of  Vale 
rian,  that  I  set  sail  from  Italy,  and  am  now  a  dweller 
in  Palmyra.  From  this  point,  I  persuaded  myself  I 
could  best  operate  for  his  deliverance.  My  first  impulse 
was  to  throw  myself  at  your  feet,  and  ask  of  you  both 
counsel  and  aid.' 

*  They  should  have  been  gladly  yours,  very  heartily 
yours.  It  was  a  foul  deed  of  Sapor — and  a  sad  fate, 
that  of  the  great  Censor,  and  of  your  father  the  good 
Cneius  Piso.  And  yet  I  see  not  much  that  I  could 
have  done.' 

'  Refuse  not  my  thanks,'  said  I,  '  for  the  expression 
of  so  generous  sentiments.  I  am  sure  I  should  have 
shared  a  goodness  of  which  all  seem  to  partake,  had  I 
thought  it  right  and  necessary  to  appeal  to  you.  But 
I  was  soon  convinced,  by  the  arguments  of  both  Grac 
chus  and  Fausta,  that  my  chance  of  success  was  greater 
through  private  than  through  public  enterprise.  And 
happy  am  I  to  be  able  to  say,  that  I  have  found  and 
employed  an  emissary,  who,  if  the  business  be  capable 
of  accomplishment  by  human  endeavors,  will  with  more 
likelihood  than  any  other  that  could  easily  be  named, 
accomplish  it.  Aurelian  himself  could  not  here  do  as 
much  nor  as  well  as  Isaac  of  Rome.' 

'  I  believe,'  said  Zenobia,  '  you  will  readily  agree 
with  me  in  the  opinion,  that  Rome  has  never  respected 
herself  so  little  as  in  her  neglect  of  Valerian  and  his 
fellow-sufferers.  But  for  the  scathing  got  from  our 


100  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

arm,  the  proud  Persian  had  come  out  of  that  encounter 
with  nothing  but  laurels.  We,  thanks  to  the  braverj 
and  accomplished  art  of  Odenatus,  tore  off  some  oi 
those  laurels,  and  left  upon  the  body  of  the  Great  King 
the  marks  of  blows  which  smart  yet.  This  Indian  girl 
at  my  feet  was  of  the  household  of  Sapor — a  slave  of 
one  of  those  women  of  whom  we  took  a  tent  full.  The 
shame  of  this  loss  yet  rankles  deep  in  the  heart  of  the 
king.  But  should  Rome  have  dealt  so  by  her  good 
Emperor  and  her  brave  soldiers  ?  Ought  she  to  have 
left  it  to  a  then  new  and  small  power  to  take  vengeance 
on  her  mean,  base-minded,  yet  powerful  foe  ?  It  is 
not  even  yet  too  late,  methinks,  for  her  to  stir  herself, 
were  it  only  to  rescue  one  of  the  noble  house  of  Piso. 
Perhaps  it  may  be  with  some  intent  of  this  kind  that 
we  hear  rumors  of  an  Asiatic  expedition.  Aurelian, 
we  learn,  having  wearied  himself  with  victory  in  Gaul 
and  Germany,  turns  his  thoughts  towards  the  East. 
What  can  his  aim  be,  if  not  Persia  ?  But  I  truly  re 
joice  that  through  efforts  of  your  own  you  have  so  good 
prospect  of  seeing  again  your  captive  brother.' 

'  I  have  no  knowledge  of  the  purposes  of  the  Roman 
Emperor,'  I  replied,  '  but  such  as  is  common  to  all. 
Though  honored  with  the  friendship  of  Aurelian,  I  am 
not  a  political  confidant.  I  can  only  conjecture  touch 
ing  his  designs,  from  my  acquaintance  with  his  char 
acter,  and  the  features  of  the  policy  he  has  adopted  and 
avowed  as  that  which  is  to  govern  his  administration. 
And  this  policy  is  that  which  has  been  acted  upon  by 
so  many  of  those  who  before  him  have  been  raised  to 
the  head  of  our  nation,  namely  this,  that,  west  of  the 
Euphrates  to  the  farthest  limits  of  Spain  and  Gaul, 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  101 

embracing  all  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  with 
their  thickly  scattered  nations,  there  shall  be  but  one 
empire,  and  of  that  one  empire  but  one  head.  It  is  the 
fixed  purpose  of  Aurelian  to  restore  to  the  empire  the 
unity  by  which  it  was  distinguished  and  blessed  under 
the  two  Antonines.  And  already  his  movements  in 
Gaul  show  that  his  practice  is  to  conform  to  his  theory. 
I  feel  that  you  will  pardon,  nay,  that  you  will  com 
mend  me  for  the  plainness  with  which  I  impart  such 
knowledge  as  I  may  possess.  It  will  be  to  me  the 
dearest  happiness,  if  I  can  subserve  in  any  way,  con 
sistently  with  my  duty  to  Rome,  the  interests  of  Pal 
myra  and  her  Queen.' 

*  Roman,'  said  Zenobia  in  reply, '  I  honor  your  frank 
ness,  and  thank  you  for  your  faith  in  my  generosity. 
It  is  not,  I  assure  you,  misplaced.  I  am  glad  to  know 
from  so  authentic  a  source  the  policy  of  Aurelian.  I 
surmised  as  much  before.  All  that  I  have  thought,  will 
come  true.  The  rumors  which  are  afloat  are  not  with 
out  foundation.  Your  emperor  understands  that  I  have 
a  policy  as  well  as  he,  and  a  fixed  purpose  as  well  as 
he.  I  will  never  fall  from  what  I  have  been,  but  into 
ruin  final  and  complete.  I  have  lived  a  sovereign 
Queen,  and  so  I  will  die.  The  son  of  Valerian  re 
ceived  Odenatus  and  Zenobia  as  partners  in  empire. 
We  were  representatives  of  Rome  in  the  East.  Our 
dignities  and  our  titles  were  those  of  Gallienus.  It 
were  small  boasting  to  say  that  they  were  worn  not 
less  worthily  here  than  in  Rome.  And  this  associa 
tion  with  Rome — I  sought  it  not.  It  was  offered  as  a 
tribute  to  our  greatness.  Shall  it  be  dissolved  at  the 
will  of  Aurelian  ? — and  Palmyra,  no  longer  needed  as 


102 


2E  NOBI A 


a  scourge  for  the  Great  King,  be  broken  down  into  a 
tributary  province,  an  obscure  appendage  of  your  great 
ness  ?  May  the  gods  forsake  me  that  moment  I  am 
false  to  my  country !  I  too  am  ambitious,  as  well  as 
Aurelian.  And  let  him  be  told,  that  I  stipulate  for  a 
full  partnership  of  the  Roman  power — my  sons  to  bear 
the  name  and  rank  of  Csesar — or  the  tie  which  unites 
Palmyra  to  Rome  is  at  once  and  forever  sundered,  and 
she  stands  before  the  world  an  independent  kingdom, 
to  make  good  as  she  may,  by  feats  of  arms,  her  claim 
to  that  high  dignity ;  and  the  arms  which  have  pre 
vailed  from  the  Nile  to  the  shores  of  the  Caspian,  from 
the  Euphrates  to  the  Mediterranean,  and  have  triumphed 
more  than  once  over  the  pride  and  power  of  Persia, 
may  be  trusted  in  any  encounter,  if  the  fates  should  so 
ordain,  with  even  Rome  herself.  The  conqueror  of 
Egypt  would,  I  believe,  run  a  not  ignoble  tilt  with  the 
conqueror  of  a  Gallic  province/ 

1  Dearest  mother,'  said  the  Princess  Julia,  in  a  voice 
full  of  earnest  entreaty,  '  do  not,  do  not  give  way  to 
such  thoughts.  Heed  not  these  lying  rumors.  Trust 
in  the  magnanimity  of  Aurelian.  We  make  the  virtue 
we  believe  in.  Let  it  not  reach  his  ears  that  you  have 
doubted  him.  I  can  see  no  reason  why  he  should  de 
sire  to  disturb  the  harmony  that  has  so  long  reigned — 
and  Aurelian  is  no  madman.  What  could  he  gain  by 
a  warlike  expedition,  which  a  few  words  could  not 
gain  ?  Noble  Piso,  if  your  great  emperor  would  but 
speak  before  he  acts — if  indeed  any  purpose  like  that 
which  is  attributed  to  him  has  entered  his  mind — a 
world  of  evil,  and  suffering,  and  crime,  might  possibly 
be  saved.  Tlenobia,  though  ambitious,  is  reasonable 


Z  £  N  0  B  I  A  .  103 

and  patient,  and  will  listen  as  becomes  a  philosopher, 
and  a  lover  of  her  people,  to  any  thing  he  should  say. 
It  were  a  great  act  of  friendship  to  press  upon  him  the 
policy,  as  well  as  the  virtue  of  moderation.' 

Zenobia  gave  a  mother's  smile  of  love  to  her  daugh 
ter,  whose  countenance,  while  she  uttered  these  few 
words,  was  brilliant  with  the  beauty  of  strong  emotion. 

'  No  act  of  friendship  like  this,  lady,'  said  I,  '  shall 
be  wanting  on  my  part.  If  I  have  any  influence  over 
the  mind  of  Aurelian,  it  shall  be  exerted  to  serve  the 
cause  of  peace.  I  have  dear  friends  in  Palmyra,  and 
this  short  residence  among  her  people  has  bound  me  to 
them  very  closely.  It  would  grieve  me  sorely  to  feel 
that  as  a  Roman  and  a  lover  of  my  country,  I  must 
needs  break  these  so  lately  knitted  bonds  of  affection. 
But,  I  am  obliged  to  say  it,  I  am  now  full  of  apprehen 
sion,  lest  no  efforts  of  mine,  or  of  any,  may  have  power 
to  avert  the  calamities  which  impend.  The  scene  I 
was  witness  of  but  so  few  hours  ago,  seems  to  me  now 
to  cut  off  all  hope  of  an  amicable  adjustment.' 

Julia's  countenance  fell.  The  air  of  pride  in  Zenobia 
mounted  higher  and  higher. 

*  And  what  was  it  I  did  ? '  said  Zenobia.  '  Do  I  not 
stand  upon  the  records  of  the  Senate,  Augusta  of  the 
Roman  empire !  Was  not  the  late  renowned  Odenatus, 
Augustus  by  the  decree  of  that  same  Senate  ?  And  was 
I  not  then  right  to  call  my  own  sons  by  their  rightful 
title  of  Caesar  ? — and  invest  them  with  the  appropriate 
robe,  and  even  show  them  to  the  people  as  their  destined 
rulers  ?  I  am  yet  to  learn  that  in  aught  I  have  offended 
against  any  fair  construction  of  the  Roman  law.  And 
unless  I  may  thus  stand  in  equal  honor  with  other 


104  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

partners  of  this  empire,  asking  and  receiving  nothing 
as  favor,  I  sever  myself  and  my  kingdom  from  it.' 

*  But,'  said  Julia,  in  her  persuasive  voice,  whose  very 
tones  were  enough  to  change  the  harshest  sentiment  to 
music,  'why  put  at  hazard  the  certain  good  we  now 
enjoy,  the  peace  and  prosperity  of  this  fair  realm,  for 
what  at  best  is  but  a  shadow — a  name  ?  What  is  it  to 
you  or  me  that  Timolaus,  Herennianus,  and  Vabalathus 
be  hailed  by  the  pretty  style  of  Caesar  ?  For  me  at  least, 
and  so  I  think  for  all  who  love  you,  it  is  enough  that 
they  are  the  sons  of  Zenobia.  Who  shall  heap  more 
upon  that  honor  ? ' 

'Julia,'  replied  the  Queen,  'as  the  world  deems — and 
we  are  in  the  world  and  of  it — honor  and  greatness  lie 
not  in  those  things  which  are  truly  honorable  and  great; 
not  in  learning  or  genius,  else  were  Longinus  upon  this 
throne,  and  I  his  waiting  woman ;  not  in  action — else 
were  the  great  Zabdas  king ;  not  in  merit,  else  were 
many  a  dame  of  Palmyra  where  I  am,  and  I  a  patient 
household  drudge.  Birth,  and  station,  and  power, 
are  before  these.  Men  bow  before  names,  and  scep 
tres,  and  robes  of  office,  lower  than  before  the  gods 
themselves.  Nay,  here  in  the  East,  power  itself  were 
a  shadow  without  its  tinsel  trappings.  'T  is  vain  to 
stand  against  the  world.  I  am  one  of  the  general  herd. 
What  they  honor,  I  crave.  This  coronet  of  pearl,  this 
gorgeous  robe,  this  golden  chair,  this  human  footstool, 
in  the  eye  of  a  severe  judgment,  may  signify  but  little. 
Zeno  or  Diogenes  might  smile  upon  them  with  con 
tempt.  But  so  thinks  not  the  world.  It  is  no  secret 
that  in  Timolaus,  Herennianus  and  Vabalathus  dwells 
not  the  wisdom  of  Longinus,  nor  the  virtue  of  Valerian. 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  105 

What  then  so  crazed  the  assembled  people  of  Palmyra, 
but  the  purple-colored  mantle  of  the  Roman  Caesar? 
I  am  for  that  fathoms  deeper  in  the  great  heart  of  my 
people.  These  are  poor  opinions,  so  thou  judgest, 
Roman,  for  the  pupil  of  the  chief  philosopher  of  our 
age,  and  through  him  skilled  in  all  the  learning  of  the 
Greeks.  But  forget  not  that  I  am  an  Oriental  and — 
a  woman.  This  double  nature  works  at  my  heart  with 
more  than  all  the  power  of  the  schools.  Who  and 
what  so  strong  as  the  divinity  within  ? ' 

This  is  a  poor  record,  my  Curtius,  of  what  fell  from 
this  extraordinary  woman.  Would  that  I  could  set 
down  the  noble  sentiments  which,  in  the  midst  of  so 
much  that  I  could  not  approve,  came  from  her  lips  in  a 
language  worthy  of  her  great  teacher  !  Would  that  I 
could  transfer  to  my  pages  the  touching  eloquence  of 
the  divine  Julia,  whose  mind,  I  know  not  how  it  is. 
moves  in  a  higher  world  than  ours.  Sometimes,  nay, 
many  times,  her  thoughts,  strangely  enough,  raised  up 
before  me  the  image  of  the  Christian  Probus,  of  whom 
I  had  till  then  scarcely  thought  since  our  parting.  For 
a  long  time  was  this  interview  continued — an  interview 
to  me  more  stirring  than  any  other  of  my  life,  and, 
owing  to  the  part  I  was  obliged  to  take,  almost  pain 
fully  so.  Much  that  I  said  could  not  but  have  grated 
harshly  upon  the  proud  and  ambitious  spirit  of  Zenobia. 
But  I  shrunk  from  nothing  that  in  the  least  degree 
might  tend  to  shake  her  in  the  designs  which  now 
possess  and  agitate  her,  and  which,  as  it  seems  to  me, 
cannot  be  carried  out  without  great  danger  to  the  safety 
or  existence  of  her  kingdom  ;  though  I  cannot  but  say, 
that  if  a  rupture  should  occur  between  Palmyra  and 
VOL.  i.  10 


106  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

Rome,  imprudence  might  indeed  be  charged  upon 
Zenobia,  but  guilt,  deep  guilt,  would  lie  at  the  door  of 
Aurelian.  It  was  a  great  aid  that  Julia,  in  all  I  said, 
was  my  ally.  Her  assent  gave  double  force  to  every 
argument  I  used ;  for  Zenobia  trusts  her  as  a  sister,  I 
had  almost  said,  reveres  her  as  a  divinity.  Beautiful 
it  was  to  witness  their  freedom  and  their  love.  The 
gods  avert  every  calamity  from  their  heads  ! 

When  we  had  in  this  manner,  as  I  have  said,  a  long 
time  discoursed,  Zenobia,  at  length,  rising  from  her 
seat,  said  to  me,  '  Now  do  we  owe  you  some  fair  return, 
noble  Piso,  for  the  patience  with  which  you  have 
listened  to  our  treasonable  words.  If  it  please  you, 
accompany  us  now  to  some  other  part  of  our  palace, 
and  it  will  be  strange  if  we  cannot  find  something 
worthy  of  your  regard.' 

So  saying,  we  bent  our  way  in  company,  idly  talking 
of  such  things  as  offered,  to  a  remote  part  of  the  vast 
building,  passing  through  and  lingering  here  and  there 
in  many  a  richly-wrought  hall  and  room,  till,  turning 
suddenly  into  a  saloon  of  Egyptian  device,  where  we 
heard  the  sound  of  voices,  I  found  myself  in  the  pre 
sence  of  Gracchus  and  Fausta,  Longinus  and  Zabdas, 
with  a  few  others  of  the  chief  citizens  of  Palmyra.  I 
need  not  say  how  delighted  I  was.  It  was  a  meeting 
never  to  be  forgotten.  But  it  was  in  the  evening  of 
this  day,  walking  in  the  gardens  of  the  palace  between 
Julia  and  Fausta,  that  I  banqueted  upon  the  purest 
pleasure  of  my  life. 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  107 


LETTER    V. 

You  could  not  but  suppose,  my  Curtius,  when  you 
came  to  the  end  of  my  last  letter,  that  I  should  soon 
write  again,  and  not  leave  you  ignorant  of  the  manner 
in  which  I  passed  the  evening  at  the  palace  of  Zenobia. 
Accordingly,  knowing  that  you  would  desire  this,  I  had 
no  sooner  tied  and  sealed  my  epistle,  than  I  sat  down 
to  give  you  those  minute  recollections  of  incident  and 
of  conversation  in  which  you  and  Lucilia  both  so  much 
delight,  and  which  indeed,  in  the  present  instance,  are 
not  unimportant  in  their  bearing  upon  my  future  lot. 
But  this  I  shall  leave  to  your  own  conjectures.  A 
tempest  of  rain  makes  me  a  necessary  prisoner  to  the 
house,  but  the  pleasant  duty  of  writing  to  you  spreads 
sunshine  on  all  within  my  room.  I  trust  in  the  gods 
that  you  are  all  well. 

Of  the  banquet  in  that  Egyptian  hall,  and  its  imme 
diate  attendant  circumstances,  I  need  not  tell  you.  It 
was  like  other  feasts  of  ceremony,  where  the  niceties 
of  form  constantly  obtrude  themselves,  and  check  too 
much  the  flow  of  conversation.  Then  too  one's  mind 
is  necessarily  distracted,  where  the  feast  is  sumptuous, 
by  the  rarity  of  the  dishes,  the  richness  of  the  service, 
and  the  pomp  and  stir  of  the  attendance.  Never  was 
it  my  fortune  in  Eome  to  recline  at  a  table  of  more 
imperial  splendor.  For  Lucilia's  sake  I  will  just  say, 
that  the  service  was  of  solid  gold,  most  elaborately 
carved,  and  covered  with  designs  illustrative  of  points 


108  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

of  the  Egyptian  annals.  Our  wine  cups  were  also  of 
gold,  enriched  with  precious  stones  ;  and  for  each  kind 
of  wine,  a  different  cup,  set  with  jewels,  typical  of  the 
character  of  the  wine  for  which  it  was  intended. 
These  were  by  the  hand  of  Demetrius.  It  was  in  all 
respects  a  Roman  meal,  in  its  fashions  and  conduct, 
though  the  table  was  spread  with  many  delicacies  pe 
culiar  to  the  Orientals.  The  walls  and  ceiling  of  the 
room,  and  the  carpets,  represented,  in  the  colors  of  the 
most  eminent  Greek  and  Persian  artists,  scenes  of  the 
life  and  reign  of  the  great  Queen  of  Egypt,  of  whom 
Zenobia  reckons  herself  a  descendant.  Cleopatra  was 
all  around,  above,  and  beneath.  Music  at  intervals, 
as  the  repast  drew  toward  a  close,  streamed  in  from 
invisible  performers,  and  added  a  last  and  crowning 
charm.  The  conversation  was  light  and  sportful, 
taking  once  or  twice  only,  and  accidentally,  as  it  were, 
a  political  turn.  These  graceful  Palmyrenes  act  a 
winning  part  in  all  the  high  courtesies  of  life ;  and 
nothing  could  be  more  perfect  than  their  demeanor, 
free  and  frank,  yet  never  forgetful  of  the  presence  of 
Zenobia,  nor  even  of  me,  a  representative  in  some 
manner  of  the  majesty  of  Rome. 

The  moon,  nearly  at  her  full,  was  already  shining 
bright  in  the  heavens,  when  we  left  the  tables,  and 
walking  first  for  a  time  upon  the  cool  pavements  of  the 
porticos  of  the  palace,  then  descended  to  the  gardens, 
and  separating  in  groups,  moved  away  at  will  among 
their  endless  windings.  Zenobia,  as  if  desiring  some 
private  conference  with  her  great  teacher,  left  us  in 
company  with  Longinus.  It  was  my  good  and  happy 
fortune  to  find  myself  in  the  society  of  Julia  andFausta, 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  109 

with  whom  I  directed  my  steps  toward  the  remoter  and 
more  quiet  parts  of  the  garden — for  nearer  the  palace 
there  were  still  to  be  heard  the  sounds  of  merriment, 
and  of  the  instruments  furnishing  a  soft  and  delicious 
entertainment  for  such  as  chose  to  remain  longer  in  the 
palace.  Of  the  rest  of  the  company,  some  like  ourselves 
wandered  among  the  labyrinthian  walks  of  this  vast 
pleasure-ground,  while  others,  already  weary,  or  satis 
fied  with  enjoyment,  returned  early  to  their  homes. 

The  evening,  shall  I  say  it,  was  worthy  of  the  com 
pany  now  abroad  to  enjoy  it.  A  gentle  breeze  just 
swayed  the  huge  leaves  ot  the — to  me — strange  plants 
which  overhung  the  paths,  and  came,  as  it  here  always 
seems  to  come,  laden  with  a  sweetness  which  in  Rome 
it  never  has,  unless  added  by  the  hand  of  art.  Dian's 
face  shone  never  before  so  fair  and  bright,  and  her 
light,  coming  to  us  at  frequent  turns  in  our  walk, 
through  the  spray  of  numerous  fountains,  caused  them 
to  show  like  falling  diamonds.  A  divine  repose 
breathed  over  the  whole  scene.  I  am  sure  our  souls 
were  in  harmony  with  it. 

1  Princess,'  said  I,  '  the  gardens  of  Nero  can  have 
presented  no  scenes  more  beautiful  than  these.  He 
who  designed  these  avenues,  and  groups  of  flowers  and 
trees,  these  frequent  statues  and  fountains,  bowers  and 
mimic  temples,  and  made  them  bear  to  each  other  these 
perfect  proportions  and  relations,  had  no  less  knowledge, 
methinks,  of  the  true  principles  of  taste,  and  of  the  very 
secrets  of  beauty,  than  the  great  Longinus  himself. 
The  beauty  is  so  rare,  that  it  affects  the  mind  almost 
like  greatness  itself.  In  truth,  in  perfect  beauty  there 
is  always  that  which  overawes.' 
VOL.  i.  10* 


110  Z  E  N  OBI  A. 

'  I  cannot  say,'  replied  Julia,  '  that  the  learned  Greek 
was  the  architect  and  designer  of  these  various  forms 
of  beauty.  The  credit,  I  believe,  is  rather  due  to 
Periander,  a  native  Athenian,  a  man,  it  is  universally 
conceded,  of  the  highest  genius.  Yet  it  is  at  the 
same  time  to  be  said,  that  the  mind  of  Longinus 
presided  over  the  whole.  And  he  took  not  less  delight 
in  ordering  the  arrangements  of  these  gardens,  than 
he  did  in  composing  that  great  treatise,  not  long  pub 
lished,  and  which  you  must  have  seen  before  you  left 
Rome.  He  is  a  man  of  universal  powers.  You 
have  not  failed  to  observe  his  grace,  not  less  than  his 
abilities,  while  we  were  at  the  tables.  You  have  seen 
that  he  can  play  the  part  of  one  who  would  win  the 
regards  of  two  foolish  girls,  as  well  as  that  of  first 
minister  of  a  great  kingdom,  or  that  of  the  chief  living 
representative  and  teacher  of  the  philosophy  of  the 
immortal  Plato.' 

'  For  myself,'  I  replied,  « I  could  hardly  withdraw 
myself  from  the  simple  admiration  of  his  noble  head 
and  form,  to  attend,  so  as  to  judge  of  it,  to  what  fell 
from  his  lips.  It  seems  to  me  that  if  a  sculptor  of 
his  own  Greece  sought  for  a  model  of  the  human 
figure,  he  could  hope  to  find  none  so  perfect  as  that  of 
Longinus.' 

'  That  makes  it  the  foolisher  and  stranger,'  said 
Fausta,  '  that  he  should  toil  at  his  toilet  as  he  so  mani 
festly  does.  Why  can  he  not  rely,  for  his  power  over 
both  men  and  women,  upon  his  genius,  and  his  natural 
graces.  It  might  be  well  enough  for  the  Stagyrite  to 
deck  his  little  person  in  fine  clothes,  and  to  cover  his 
fingers  with  rings — for  I  believe  there  must  be  some- 


ZEN  OBI  A.  Ill 

thing  in  the  outward  appearance  to  strike  the  mere 
sensual  eye,  and  please  it,  either  natural  or  assumed, 
or  else  even  philosophers  might  go  unheeded.  I  doubt 
if  upon  my  fingers  there  be  more  or  more  glowing 
rings  than  upon  those  of  Longinus.  To  be  sure,  one 
must  admit  that  his  taste  is  exquisite.' 

'  In  the  manners  and  dress  of  Longinus,'  said  I,  *  as 
well  as  in  those  of  Aristotle,  we  behold,  I  think,  simply 
the  power  of  custom.  They  were  both,  in  respect  to 
such  things,  in  a  state  of  indifference — the  true  philo 
sophical  state.  But  what  happened  ?  Both  became 
instructors  and  companions  of  princes,  and  the  inmates 
of  royal  palaces.  Their  manners  and  costume  were 
left,  without  a  thought,  I  will  dare  to  say,  on  their  part, 
to  conform  themselves  to  what  was  around  them. 
Would  it  not  have  been  a  more  glaring  piece  of  vanity, 
if  in  the  palace  of  Philip,  Aristotle  had  clothed  himself 
in  the  garb  of  Diogenes — or  if  Longinus,  in  the  pres 
ence  of  the  great  Zenobia,  had  appeared  in  the  sordid 
attire  of  Tim  on?' 

'  I  think  so,'  said  Julia. 

'  Your  explanation  is  a  very  probable  one,'  added 
Fausta,  *  and  had  not  occurred  to  me.  It  is  true,  the 
courts  may  have  dressed  them  and  not  themselves, 
But  never,  I  still  must  think,  did  a  rich  dress  fall  upon 
more  willing  shoulders  than  upon  those  of  the  Greek, 
always  excepting,  Julia,  Paul  of  Antioch.' 

*  Ah,  Fausta,'  said  Julia,  '  you  cannot,  do  what  you 
will,  shake  my  faith  in  Paul.  If  I  allow  him  vain, 
and  luxurious,  and  haughty,  I  can  still  separate  the 
advocate  from  the  cause.  You  would  not  condemn  the 
doctrine  of  Aristotle,  on  the  ground  that  he  wore  rings. 


112  2ENOBIA. 

Nor  can  I  altogether,  nor  in  part,  that  of  Paul,  because 
he  rolls  through  the  city  in  a  gilded  chariot,  with  the 
attendance  of  a  prince.  I  may  blame  or  despise  him 
• — but  not  therefore  reject  his  teaching.  That  has  a 
defence  independent  of  him.  Policy,  and  necessity  of 
time  and  place,  have  compelled  him  to  much  which  his 
reason  disapproves.  This  he  has  given  me  to  believe, 
and  has  conjured  me  on  this,  as  on  all  subjects,  to 
yield  my  mind  only  to  evidence,  apart  from  all  personal 
considerations.  But  I  did  not  mean  to  turn  our  con 
versation  in  this  direction.  Here,  Piso,  have  we  now 
arrived  in  our  walk  at  my  favorite  retreat.  This  is  my 
bower  for  meditation,  and  frequently  for  reading  too. 
Let  us  take  this  seat.  Observe  how  through  these 
openings  we  catch  some  of  the  prominent  points  of  the 
city.  There  is  the  obelisk  of  Cleopatra;  there  the 
tower  of  Antonine  ;  there  the  Egyptian  Pyramid  ;  and 
there  a  column  going  up  in  honor  of  Aurelian  ;  and  in 
this  direction,  the  whole  outline  of  the  palace.' 

1  Yet  are  we  at  the  same  time  shut  out  from  all  the 
world,'  said  I.  '  Your  hours  must  fly  swiftly  here. 
But  are  your  musings  always  solitary  ones  ? ' 

'  O  no — I  am  not  so  craving  as  that  of  my  own  so 
ciety  :  sometimes  I  am  joined  by  my  mother,  and  not 
oeldom  by  my  sweet  Fausta  here,'  said  she,  at  the  same 
time  affectionately  drawing  Fausta's  arm  within  her 
own,  and  clasping  her  hand ;  '  we  do  not  agree,  indeed, 
upon  all  the  subjects  which  we  discuss,  but  we  still 
agree  in  our  love.' 

1  Indeed  we  do,  and  may  the  gods  make  it  perpetual; 
may  death  only  divide  us  !'  said  Fausta  with  fervor. 

*  And  may  the  divinity  who  sits  supreme  above,'  said 


Z  E  N  0  BI  A  .  113 

Julia,  '  grant  that  over  that,  not  even  death  shall  have 
power.  If  any  thing  makes  existence  valuable,  it  is 
love.  If  I  should  define  my  happiness,  I  should  say  it 
in  one  word,  Love.  Without  Zenobia,  what  should  I 
be  ?  I  cannot  conceive  of  existence,  deprived  of  her, 
or  of  her  regard.  Loving  her,  and  Fausta,  and  Lon- 
ginus,  as  I  do — not  to  forget  Livia  and  the  dear  Faus- 
tula — and  beloved  of  all  in  return — and  my  happiness 
scarcely  seems  to  admit  of  addition.' 

'  With  what  pain,'  said  I,  '  does  one  contemplate  the 
mere  possibility  that  affections  such  as  these  are  to  last 
only  for  the  few  years  which  make  up  the  sum  of  hu 
man  life.  Must  I  believe,  must  you  believe,  that  all 
this  fair  scene  is  to  end  forever  at  death  ?  That  you, 
bound  to  each  other  by  so  many  ties,  are  to  be  sepa 
rated,  and  both  of  you  to  be  divided  from  Zenobia,  and 
all  of  us  to  fall  into  nothingness,  silence,  and  darkness? 
Rather  than  that,  would  that  the  life  we  now  enjoy 
might  be  immortal !  Here  are  beautiful  objects,  among 
which  one  might  be  willing  to  live  forever.  I  am 
never  weary  of  the  moon  and  her  soft  light,  nor  of  the 
balmy  air,  nor  of  the  bright  greens  of  the  herbage,  nor 
of  the  forms  of  plain  and  mountain,  nor  of  the  human 
beings,  infinite  in  the  varieties  of  their  character,  who 
surround  me  wherever  I  go.  Here  now  have  I  wan 
dered  far  from  my  home,  yet  in  what  society  and  in 
what  scenes  do  I  find  myself!  The  same  heaven  is 
above  me,  the  same  forms  of  vegetable  life  around  me, 
and  what  is  more,  friends  already  dear  as  those  I  have 
left  behind.  In  this  very  spot,  were  it  but  as  an  hum 
ble  attendant  upon  the  greatness  of  the  Queen,  could  1 
be  content  to  dwell.' 


114  ZENOBIA. 

*  Truly,  I  think  you  might,'  cried  Fausta ;  « having 
chosen  for  yourself  so  elysian  a  spot,  and  filled  it  with 
such  inhabitants,  it  is  no  great  proof  of  a  contented 
spirit  that  you  should  love  to  inhabit  it.  But  how 
many  such  spots  does  the  world  present? — and  how 
many  such  inhabitants  ?  The  question  I  think  is, 
would  you  be  ready  to  accept  the  common  lot  of  man 
as  an  immortal  one  ?  I  can  easily  believe  that  many, 
were  they  seated  in  these  gardens,  and  waited  on  by 
attendant  slaves,  and  their  whole  being  made  soft  and 
tranquil,  and  exempt  from  care  and  fear,  would  say, 
'  Ensure  me  this,  and  I  ask  no  more.'  For  myself, 
indeed,  I  must  say  it  would  not  be  so.  I  think  not 
even  the  lot  of  Zenobia,  enthroned  as  she  is  in  the 
hearts  of  millions,  nor  yet  thine,  Julia,  beloved  not  less 
than  Zenobia,  would  satisfy  me.  I  have  now  all  that 
my  utmost  desires  crave.  Yet  is  there  a  part  of  me, 
I  know  not  what  it  is,  nor  where  it  is,  that  is  not  full. 
I  confess  myself  restless  and  unsatisfied.  No  object, 
no  study,  no  pursuit,  no  friendship — forgive  me,  Julia,' 
— and  she  kissed  her  hand, — 'no  friendship  even,  satis 
fies  and  fills  me.' 
—  *  I  do  not  wonder,'  said  Julia. 

'  But  how  much  unhappiness  is  there  spread  over 
the  earth,'  continued  Fausta :  '  I,  and  you,  and  Piso 
perhaps  too,  are  in  a  state  of  dissatisfaction.  And  yet 
we  are  perched,  as  it  were,  upon  the  loftiest  heights  of 
existence.  How  must  it  be  with  those  who  are  so  far 
inferior  to  us  as  multitudes  are  in  their  means  of  hap 
piness  ?  From  how  many  ills  are  we  shielded,  which 
rain  down  sharp-pointed,  like  the  hail  storms  of  winter, 
upon  the  undefended  heads  of  the  poor  and  low  f 


ZEN  OBI  A.  115 

They,  Piso,  would  not,  I  think,  pray  that  their  lot 
might  be  immortal.' 

'  Indeed  I  think  not,'  said  I.  '  Yet,  perhaps,  their 
lot  is  not  so  much  more  miserable  than  yours,  as  the 
difference  in  outward  condition  might  lead  one  to  think. 
Remember,  the  slave  and  the  poor  do  not  feel  as  you 
would,  suddenly  reduced  to  their  state.  The  Arab 
enjoys  his  sleep  upon  his  tent  floor  as  well  as  you, 
Princess,  beneath  a  canopy  of  woven  gold,  and  his 
frugal  meal  of  date  or  pulse  tastes  as  sweet,  as  to  you 
do  dainties  fetched  from  Rome,  or  fished  from  the  In 
dian  seas  :  and  eating  and  sleeping  make  up  much  of 
life.  Then  the  hearts  of  the  great  are  corroded  by 
cares  and  solicitudes  which  never  visit  the  humble. 
Still,  I  do  not  deny  that  their  condition  is  not  far  less 
enviable  than  ours.  The  slave  who  may  be  lashed, 
and  tormented,  and  killed  at  his  master's  pleasure, 
drinks  from  a  cup  of  which  we  never  so  much  as  taste. 
But  over  the  whole  of  life,  and  throughout  every  con 
dition  of  it,  there  are  scattered  evils  and  sorrows 
which  pierce  every  heart  with  pain.  I  look  upon  all 
conditions  as  in  part  evil.  It  is  only  by  selecting  cir 
cumstances,  and  excluding  ills  which  are  the  lot  of  all, 
that  I  could  ask  to  live  forever,  even  in  the  gardens  of 
Zenobia.' 

'  I  do  not  think  we  differ  much  then,'  said  Fausta, 
'  in  what  we  think  of  human  life.  I  hold  the  highest 
lot  to  be  unsatisfying.  You  admit  all  are  so,  but  have 
shown  me  that  there  is  a  nearer  approach  to  an  equality 
of  happiness  than  I  had  supposed,  though  evil  weighs 
upon  all.  How  the  mind  longs  and  struggles  to  pen 
etrate  the  mysteries  of  its  being !  How  imperfect  and 


116  ZE  N  0  BIA. 

without  aim  does  life  seem  !  Every  thing  beside  man 
seems  to  reach  its  utmost  perfection.  Man  alone  ap 
pears  a  thing  incomplete  and  faulty.' 

*  And  what,'  said  I,  *  would  make  him  appear  to  you 
a  thing  perfect  arid  complete?  What  change  should 
you  suggest  ? ' 

'  That  which  rather  may  he  called  an  addition,'  re 
plied  Fausta,  '  and  which,  if  I  err  not,  all  wise  and  good 
men  desire,  the  assurance  of  immortality.  Nothing  is 
sweet ;  every  cup  is  bitter ;  that  which  we  are  this 
moment  drinking  from,  bitterest  of  all,  without  this. 
Of  this  I  incessantly  think  and  dream,  and  am  still 
tossed  in  a  sea  of  doubt.' 

'  You  have  read  Plato  ? '  said  I. 

'  Yes,  truly,'  she  replied ;  *  but  I  found  little  there  to 
satisfy  me.  I  have  enjoyed  too  the  frequent  conver 
sation  of  Longinus,  and  yet  it  is  the  same.  Would 
that  he  were  now  here  !  The  hour  is  serene,  and  the 
air  which  comes  in  so  gently  from  the  West,  such  as 
he  loves.' 

As  Fausta  uttered  these  words,  our  eyes  at  the  same 
moment  caught  the  forms  of  Zenobia  and  Longinus, 
as  they  emerged  from  a  walk  very  near,  but  made 
dark  by  overhanging  and  embowering  roses.  We 
immediately  advanced  toward  them,  and  begged  them 
to  join  us. 

'  We  are  conversing,'  said  Julia,  '  upon  such  things 
as  you  both  love.  Come  and  sit  now  with  us,  and  let 
us  know  what  you  can  say  upon  the  same  themes.' 

'  We  will  sit  with  you  gladly,'  said  the  Queen ;  '  at 
least  for  myself  I  may  say  it,  for  I  am  sure  that  with 
you  I  shall  find  some  other  subjects  discussed  beside 


2ENOBIA.  117 

perplexing  affairs  of  state.     When  alone  with  Longi- 
nus — as  but  now — our  topic  is  ever  the  same.' 

'If  the  subject  of  our  discourse,  however,  be  ever  the 
same,'  said  the  Greek,  '  we  have  this  satisfaction  in 
reflecting  upon  it,  that  it  is  one  that  in  its  nature  is 
real  and  tangible.  The  well-being  of  a  nation  is  not 
an  undefined  and  shadowy  topic,  like  so  many  of  those 
which  occupy  the  time  and  thoughts  of  even  the  wise. 
I  too,  however,  shall  gladly  bear  a  part  in  whatever 
theme  may  engross  the  thoughts  of  Julia,  Fausta,  and 
Piso.' 

With  these  words,  we  returned  to  the  seats  we  had 
left,  which  were  not  within  the  arbor  of  Julia,  but  were 
the  marble  steps  which  led  to  it.  There  we  placed 
ourselves,  one  above  and  one  beside  another,  as  hap- 
pend — Zenobia  sitting  between  Fausta  and  Julia,  I 
at  the  feet  of  Julia,  and  Longinus  on  the  same  step 
with  myself,  and  next  to  Fausta.  I  could  hardly 
believe  that  Zenobia  was  now  the  same  person  before 
whom  I  had  in  the  morning,  with  no  little  agitation, 
prostrated  myself,  after  the  manner  of  the  Persian  cer 
emonial.  She  seemed  rather  like  a  friend  whom  I 
both  loved  and  revered.  The  majesty  of  the  Queen 
was  gone ;  there  remained  only  the  native  dignity  of 
beauty,  and  goodness,  and  intellect,  which,  though  it 
inspires  reverence,  yet  is  there  nothing  slavish  in  the 
feeling.  It  differs  in  degree  only  from  that  sentiment 
which  we  entertain  toward  the  gods ;  it  raises  rather 
than  depresses. 

'  We  were  speaking,'  said  Julia,  resuming  the  subject 
which  had  engaged  us,  '  of  life  and  of  man — how  un 
satisfactory  life  is,  and  how  imperfect  and  unfinished., 
VOL.  i.  11 


118  ZEN  OBI  A. 

as  it  were,  man ;  and  we  agreed,  I  believe,  in  the 
opinion,  that  there  can  be  no  true  happiness,  without 
a  certain  assurance  of  immortality,  and  this  we  are 
without.' 

'  I  agree  with  you,'  said  Longinus,  '  in  all  that  you 
can  have  expressed  concerning  the  unsatisfactoriness 
of  life,  regarded  as  a  finite  existence,  and  concerning 
the  want  of  harmony  there  is  between  man  and  the 
other  works  of  God,  if  he  is  mortal ;  and  in  this  also, 
that  without  the  assurance  of  immortality,  there  can,  to 
the  thinking  mind,  be  no  true  felicity.  I  only  wonder 
that  on  the  last  point  there  should  exist  in  the  mind  of 
any  one  of  you  doubts  so  serious  as  to  give  you  much 
disturbance.  I  cannot,  indeed,  feel  so  secure  of  a  future 
and  then  unending  existence,  as  I  am  sure  that  I  live 
now.  What  I  am  now  I  know ;  concerning  the  future, 
I  can  only  believe,  and  belief  can  never  possess  the 
certainty  of  knowledge.  Still,  of  a  future  life  I  enter 
tain  no  doubts  that  distress  me.  My  belief  in  it  is  as 
clear  and  strong  as  I  can  well  conceive  belief  in  things 
invisible  and  unexperienced  to  be.  It  is  such  as  makes 
me  happy  in  any  thought  or  prospect  of  death.  With 
out  it,  and  life  would  appear  to  me  like  nothing  more 
to  be  esteemed  than  a  short,  and  often  troubled  or  ter 
rific  dream.' 

'  So  I  confess  it  seems  to  me,'  said  Fausta.  '  How 
should  I  bless  the  gods,  if  upon  my  mind  there  could 
rest  a  conviction  of  immortality  strong  like  yours  ! 
The  very  certainty  with  which  you  speak,  seems, 
through  the  power  of  sympathy,  to  have  scattered  some 
of  my  doubts.  But,  alas!  they  will  soon  return.' 

'In  what  you  have  now  said,'  replied  Longinus,  'and 


ZENOBIA.  119 

in  the  feeling  you  have  expressed  on  this  point,  do  I 
found  one  of  the  strongest  arguments  for  the  immor 
tality  of  the  soul.' 

*  I  do  not  comprehend  you,'  said  Fausta. 

*  Do  you  not,  Fausta,'  asked  Longinus,  *  intensely 
desire  a  life  after  death  ? ' 

1 1  do  indeed.     I  have  just  expressed  it.' 

*  And  do  not  you  too,  Zenobia,  and  Piso,  and  Julia  ? ' 

*  Surely,  and   with   intensity,'  we  answered ;  '  the 
question  need  scarce  he  asked.' 

'  I  believe  you,'  resumed  Longinus.  '  You  all 
earnestly  desire  an  immortal  life — you  perpetually 
dwell  upon  the  thought  of  it,  and  long  for  it.  Is  it 
not  so  with  all  who  reflect  at  all  upon  themselves  ? 
Are  there  any  such,  have  there  ever  been  any,  who 
have  not  been  possessed  by  the  same  thoughts  and 
desires,  and  who,  having  been  greatly  comforted  and 
supported  by  them  during  life,  have  not  at  death  relied 
upon  them,  and  looked  with  some  degree  of  confidence 
toward  a  coming  forth  again  from  death  ?  Now  I  think 
it  is  far  more  reasonable  to  believe  in  another  life,  than 
in  the  delusiveness  of  these  expectations.  For  I  cannot 
suppose  that  this  universal  expectation  will  be  disap 
pointed,  without  believing  in  the  wickedness,  nay,  the 
infinite  malignity,  of  the  Supreme  Ruler,  which  my 
whole  nature  utterly  refuses  to  do.  For  what  more 
cruel,  than  to  create  this  earnest  and  universal  longing, 
and  not  gratify  it  ?  Does  it  not  seem  so  ? ' 

We  all  admitted  it. 

*  This  instinctive   desire,'   continued  Longinus,  '  I 
cannot  but  regard  as  being  implanted  by  the   Being 
who  created  us.     It  can  proceed  from  no  other.     It  is 


120  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

an  instinct,  that  is,  a  suggestion  or  inspiration  of  God. 
If  it  could  be  shown  to  be  a  consequence  of  education, 
we  might  refer  it  for  its  origin  to  ingenious  philoso 
phers.  But  it  exists  where  the  light  of  philosophy  has 
never  shone.  There  have  been  none,  of  whom  history 
has  preserved  even  obscurest  traditions,  who  have 
wanted  this  instinct.  It  is  then  the  very  inspiration 
of  the  Divinity,  and  will  not  be  disappointed.  I  trust 
much  to  these  tendencies  of  our  nature.  This  is  the 
best  ground  for  our  belief  of  a  God.  The  arguments 
of  the  schools  have  never  succeeded  in  establishing 
the  truth,  even  to  the  conviction  of  a  philosophic  rnind, 
much  less  a  common  one.  Yet  the  truth  is  univer 
sally  admitted.  God,  I  think,  has  provided  for  so 
important  an  article  of  faith  in  the  structure  of  our 
minds.  He  has  not  left  it  to  chance  or  special  Eeve- 
lation.  So,  too,  the  determinations  of  the  mind  con 
cerning  virtue  and  vice,  right  and  wrong,  being  for 
the  most  part  so  accordant  throughout  the  whole  race 
— these  also  I  hold  to  be  instinctive.' 

'I  can  think  of  nothing,'  said  Fausta,  'to  urge 
against  your  argument.  It  adds  some  strength,  I  can 
not  but  confess,  to  what  belief  I  had  before.  I  trust 
you  have  yet  more  that  you  can  impart.  Do  not  fear 
that  we  shall  be  dull  listeners.' 

'  I  sit  here  a  willing  and  patient  learner,'  said  Zeno- 
bia,  '  of  any  one  who  will  pour  new  light  into  my  mind. 
Go  on,  Longinus.' 

'  To  such  a  school,'  said  he,  '  how  can  I  refuse  to 
speak  ?  Let  me  ask  you  then,  if  you  have  never  been 
perplexed  by  the  evils  of  life,  such  as  either  you  have 
yourselves  experienced,  or  such  as  you  have  witnessed  ? ' 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  121 

*  I  have,  indeed,'  said  Fausta,  '  and  have  deeply  de 
plored  them.     But  how  are  they  connected  with  a 
future  existence  ? ' 

*  Thus,'  replied  Longinus.     *  As   in  the  last  case, 
the  benevolence  of  the  Supreme  God  cannot  be  sus 
tained  without  the  admission  of  the  reality  of  a  future 
life.     Nor  only  that,  but  it  seems  to  me  direct  proof 
may  be  adduced  from  the  existence  and  universality 
of  these  evils  to  establish  the  blackest  malignity.     So 
that  to  me,  belief  in  a  future  existence  is  in  proportion 
to  the  difficulty  of  admitting  the  idea  of  divine  malig 
nity,  and  it  cannot  therefore  be  much  stronger  than 
it  is.' 

*  How  can  you  make  that  clear  to  us  ? '  said  Fausta ; 
*  I  should  truly  rejoice  if  out  of  the  evils  which  so 
darken  the  earth,  any  thing  good  or  beautiful  could  be 
drawn.' 

*  As    this    dark   mould,'  rejoined   the  philosopher, 
'  sends  upwards,  and  out  of  its  very  heart,  this  rare 
Persian  rose,  so  does  hope  grow  out  of  evil,  and  the 
darker  the  evil  the  brighter  the  hope,  as  from  a  richer 
and  fouler  soil  comes  the  more  vigorous  plant  and  larger 
flower.    Take  a  particular  evil,  and  consider  it.    You 
remember  the  sad  tale  concerning  the  Christian  Probus, 
which  Piso,  in  recounting  the  incidents  of  his  journey 
from  Rome  to  Palmyra,  related  to  us  while  seated  at 
the  tables  ? ' 

'  Indeed,  I  did  not  hear  it,'  said  Zenobia ;  *  so  that 
Piso  must,  if  he  will,  repeat  it.' 

'  We  shall  willingly  hear  it  again,'  said  Julia  and 
Fausta. 

And  I  then  related  it  again. 
VOL.  i.  11* 


122  2  E  N  O  B  1  A  . 

'  Now  do  you  wonder,'  resumed  Longinus,  when  I 
had  finished,  « that  Probus,  when,  one  after  another, 
four  children  were  ravished  from  his  arms  by  death, 
and  then,  as  if  to  crown  his  lot  with  evil,  his  wife 
followed  them,  and  he  was  left  alone  in  the  world, 
bereaved  of  every  object  to  which  his  heart  was  most 
fondly  attached,  do  you  wonder,  I  say,  that  he  turned 
to  the  heavens  and  cursed  the  gods  ?  And  can  you 
justify  the  gods  so  that  they  shall  not  be  chargeable 
with  blackest  malignity,  if  there  be  no  future  and  im 
mortal  state  ?  What  is  it  to  bind  so  the  heart  of  a 
parent  to  a  child,  to  give  that  affection  a  force  and  a 
tenderness  which  belong  to  no  other  tie,  so  that  anxie 
ties  for  its  life  and  welfare,  and  cares  and  sacrifices  for 
its  good,  constitute  the  very  existence  of  the  parent, 
what  is  it  to  foster  by  so  many  contrivances  this  love, 
and  then  forever  disappoint  and  blast  it,  but  malignity  ? 
Yet  this  work  is  done  every  hour,  and  in  almost  every 
heart;  if  for  children  we  lament  not,  yet  we  do  for 
others  as  dear.' 

Tears  to  the  memory  of  Odenatus  fell  fast  from  the 
eyes  of  Zenobia. 

'  Are  we  not  then,' — continued  Longinus,  without 
pausing — '  are  we  not  then  presented  with  this  alter 
native,  either  the  Supreme  God  is  a  malignant  being, 
whose  pleasure  it  is  to  torment,  or,  there  is  an  immor 
tal  state,  where  we  shall  meet  again  with  those,  who, 
for  inscrutable  purposes,  have  been  torn  from  our  arms 
here  below  ?  And  who  can  hesitate  in  which  to  rest  ? 
The  belief,  therefore,  in  a  future  life  ought  to  be  in 
proportion  to  the  difficulty  of  admitting  the  idea  of 
divine  malignity.  And  this  idea  is  so  repulsive — so 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  123 

impossible  to  be  entertained  for  one  moment — that  the 
other  cannot,  it  seems  to  me,  rest  upon  a  firmer  foun 
dation,' 

'  Every  word  you  speak,'  said  Zenobia,  '  yields 
pleasure  and  instruction.  It  delights  me,  even  when 
thickest  beset  by  the  cares  of  state,  to  pause  and  con 
template  for  a  moment  the  prospects  of  futurity.  It 
diffuses  a  divine  calm  throughout  the  soul.  You  have 
given  me  new  food  for  my  thoughts.' 

'  I  will  add,'  said  Longinus,  *  only  one  thing  to  what 
I  have  said,  and  that  is,  concerning  the  incompleteness 
of  man,  as  a  divine  work,  and  which  has  been  men 
tioned  by  Fausta.  Is  not  this  an  argument  for  a  future 
life  ?  Other  things  and  beings  are  finished  and  com 
plete — man  only  is  left,  as  it  were,  half  made  up.  A 
tree  grows  and  bears  fruit,  and  the  end  of  its  creation 
is  answered.  A  complete  circle  is  run.  It  is  the  same 
with  the  animals.  No  one  expects  more  from  a  lion  or 
a  horse  than  is. found  in  both.  But  with  man  it  is  not 
so.  In  no  period  of  history,  and  among  no  people,  has 
it  been  satisfactorily  determined  what  man  is,  or  what 
are  the  limits  of  his  capacity  and  being.  He  is  full  of 
contradictions,  and  of  incomprehensible  organization, 
if  he  is  considered  only  in  relation  to  this  world.  For 
while  every  other  affection  finds  and  rests  in  its  appro 
priate  object,  which  fully  satisfies  and  fills  it,  the  desire 
of  unlimited  improvement  and  of  endless  life — the 
strongest  and  best  defined  of  any  of  the  desires — this 
alone  is  answered  by  no  corresponding  object :  which 
is  not  different  from  what  it  would  be,  if  the  gods 
should  create  a  race  like  ours,  having  the  same 
craving  and  necessity  for  food  and  drink,  yet  never 


124  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

provide  for  them  the  one  nor  the  other,  but  leave  them 
all  to  die  of  hunger.  Unless  there  is  a  future  life,  we 
all  die  of  a  worse  hunger.  Unless  there  is  a  future 
life,  man  is  a  monster  in  creation — compared  with 
other  things,  an  abortion — and  in  himself,  and  com 
pared  with  himself,  an  enigma — a  riddle — which  no 
human  wit  has  ever  solved,  nor  can  ever  hope  to 
solve.' 

'  This  seems  unanswerable,'  said  Fausta ;  '  yet  is  it 
no  objection  to  all  such  arguments,  which  we  ourselves 
construct,  that  the  thing  they  establish  is  too  great 
and  good  almost  to  be  believed,  without  some  divine 
warrant?  It  does  to  me  appear  almost  or  quite  pre 
sumptuous  to  think,  that  for  me  there  is  by  the  gods 
prepared  a  world  of  never-fading  light,  and  a  never- 
ending  joy.' 

'  When,'  replied  the  Greek,  '  we  look  at  the  lower 
forms  of  man  which  fall  under  our  observation,  I  con 
fess  that  the  objection  which  you  urge  strikes  me  with 
some  force.  But  when  I  think  that  it  is  for  beings  like 
you  to  whom  I  speak,  for  whom  another  and  fairer 
world  is  to  be  prepared,  it  loses  again  much  of  its  force. 
And  when  I  think  of  the  great  and  good  of  other  times, 
of  Homer  and  Hesiod,  of  Phidias  and  Praxiteles,  of 
Socrates  and  Plato,  and  of  what  the  mind  of  man  has 
in  them,  and  in  others  as  great  and  good,  accomplished, 
the  objection  which  you  urge  loses  all  its  force.  I  see 
and  feel  that  man  has  been  made  not  altogether  un 
worthy  of  a  longer  life  and  a  happier  lot  than  earth 
affords.  And  in  regard  to  the  ignorant,  the  low,  and 
the  almost  or  quite  savage,  we  are  to  consider  that  the 
same  powers  and  affections  are  in  them  as  in  us,  and 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  125 

that  their  inferiority  to  us  is  not  intrinsic  and  essential, 
but  as  it  were  accidental.  The  difference  between  the 
soul  of  Plato  and  yonder  Ethiopian  slave  is  not  in  any 
original  faculty  or  power;  the  slave  here  equals  the 
philosopher ;  but  in  this,  that  the  faculties  and  powers 
of  Plato  were  strengthened,  and  nurtured,  and  polished, 
by  the  hand  of  education,  and  the  happy  influences  of 
a  more  civilized  community,  all  which  to  the  slave  has 
been  wanting.  He  is  a  diamond  just  as  it  comes  from 
the  mine ;  Plato  like  that  one  set  in  gold,  which  spar 
kles  with  the  radiance  of  a  star,  Fausta,  upon  your 
finger.  But,  surely,  the  glory  of  the  diamond  is,  that 
it  is  a  diamond;  not  that  Demetrius  has  polished  and 
set  it.  Man  has  within  him  so  much  of  the  god,  that 
I  do  not  wonder  he  has  been  so  often  deified.  The 
great  and  excellent  among  men,  therefore,  I  think  not 
unworthy  of  immortality,  for  what  they  are ;  the 
humble  and  the  bad,  for  what  they  may  so  easily 
become,  and  might  have  been,  under  circumstances 
but  slightly  altered.' 

'  I  cannot,'  said  Julia,  as  Longinus  closed,  '  deny 
strength  and  plausibility  to  your  arguments,  but  I 
cannot  admit  that  they  satisfy  me.  After  the  most 
elaborate  reasoning,  I  am  still  left  in  darkness.  No 
power  nor  wit  of  man  has  ever  wholly  scattered  the 
mists  which  rest  upon  life  and  death.  I  confess,  with 
Socrates,  that  I  want  a  promise  or  a  revelation  to 
enable  me  to  take  the  voyage  of  life  in  a  spirit  of 
cheerfulness,  and  without  the  fear  of  fatal  shipwreck. 
If  your  reasonings,  Longinus,  were  only  accompanied 
with  authority  more  than  that  of  man,  if  I  could  only 
believe  that  the  Divinity  inspired  you,  I  could  then 


126  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

rest  contented  and  happy.  One  word  authoritatively 
declaring  man's  immortality,  a  word  which  by  infallible 
token  I  could  know  to  be  a  word  from  the  Supreme, 
would  to  me  be  worth  infinitely  more  than  all  the 
conjectures,  hopes,  and  reasonings  of  all  the  philoso 
phers.  I  fully  agree  with  you,  that  the  instincts  of 
our  nature  all  point  both  to  a  God  and  to  immortality. 
But  the  heart  longs  for  something  more  sure  and 
clear,  at  least  my  woman's  heart  does.  It  may  be 
that  it  is  the  woman  within  me  which  prompts  the 
feeling — but  I  wish  to  lean  upon  authority  in  this 
great  matter.  I  wish  to  repose  calmly  in  a  divine 
assurance.' 

'In  that,  Princess,'  I  could  not  help  saying,  '  I  am  a 
woman  too.  I  have  long  since  lost  all  that  regard  for 
the  gods  in  which  I  was  so  carefully  nourished.  I 
despise  the  popular  superstitions.  Yet  is  there  nothing 
which  I  have  found  as  yet  to  supply  their  place.  I 
have  searched  the  writings  of  Plato,  of  Cicero,  of 
Seneca,  in  vain.  I  find  there,  indeed,  wisdom,  and 
learning,  and  sagacity,  almost  more  than  human.  But 
I  find  nothing  which  can  be  dignified  by  the  name  of 
religion.  Their  systems  of  morals  are  admirable,  and 
sufficient  perhaps  to  enable  one  to  live  a  happy  or 
fortunate  life.  But  concerning  the  soul  of  man,  and 
its  destiny,  they  are  dumb,  or  their  words,  if  they  utter 
any,  are  but  the  dark  speeches  of  an  oracle.' 

'  I  am  happy  that  I  am  not  alone,'  said  Julia ;  '  and 
I  cannot  but  think  that  many,  very  many,  are  with  me. 
I  am  sure  that  what  most  persons,  perhaps,  who  think 
and  feel  upon  those  subjects,  want,  is  some  divine 
promise  or  revelation.  Common  minds,  Longinus, 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  127 

cannot  appreciate  the  subtlety  of  your  reasonings, 
much  less  those  of  the  Phsedo.  And,  besides,  the 
cares  and  labors  of  life  do  not  allow  time  to  engage  in 
such  inquiries,  even  if  we  supposed  all  men  to  have 
capacity  for  them.  Is  it  not  necessary  that  truths 
relating  to  the  soul  and  futurity  should  rest  upon  au 
thority,  if  any  or  many  beside  philosophers  are  to 
embrace  them  ?  And  surely,  if  the  poor  and  ignorant 
are  immortal,  it  is  as  needful  for  them,  as  for  us,  to 
know  it.  It  is,  I  conceive,  on  this  account,  that  the 
religion  of  the  Christians  has  spread  so  rapidly.  It 
meets  our  nature.  It  supplies  authority.  It  professes 
to  bring  annunciations  from  Heaven  of  man's  immor 
tality.' 

'  It  is  for  that  reason,'  replied  Longinus,  '  I  cannot 
esteem  it.  The  very  term  revelation  offends.  The 
right  application  of  reason  effects  all,  it  seems  to  me, 
that  what  is  called  revelation  can.  It  perfectly  satisfies 
the  philosopher,  and  as  for  common  minds,  instinct  is 
an  equally  sufficient  guide  and  light.' 

'  I  cannot  but  judge  you,  Longinus,'  said  Julia, 
*  wanting  in  a  true  fellow-feeling  for  your  kind,  not 
withstanding  all  you  have  said  concerning  the  nature 
and  powers  of  man.  How  is  it  that  you  can  desire 
that  mankind  should  remain  any  longer  under  the 
dominion  of  the  same  gross  and  pernicious  errors  that 
have  for  so  many  ages  oppressed  them  !  Only  consider 
the  horrors  of  an  idolatrous  religion  in  Egypt  and 
Assyria,  in  Greece  and  in  Rome — and  do  you  not 
desire  their  extermination  ? — and  what  prospect  of  this 
can  there  be,  but  through  the  plain  authoritative  lan 
guage  of  a  revelation  ? ' 


128  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

'  I  certainly  desire  with  you,'  replied  Longinus,  « the 
extermination  of  error,  and  the  overthrow  of  horrible 
and  corrupting  superstitions ;  and  of  nothing  am  I 
more  sure  than  that  the  reason  of  man,  in  unfolding 
and  constantly  improving  ages,  will  effect  it.  A  plain 
voice  from  Heaven,  announcing  important  truth,  might 
perhaps  hasten  the  work,  But  this  voice,  as  thought 
to  be  heard  in  Christianity,  is  not  a  plain  voice,  nor 
clearly  known  to  be  a  voice  from  Heaven.  Here  is 
the  Bishop  of  Antioch  set  upon  by  the  Bishops  of  Al 
exandria  and  Cesarea,  and  many  others,  as  I  learn,  who 
accuse  him  of  wrongly  receiving  and  falsely  teaching 
the  doctrines  of  Christ;  and  for  two  hundred  years 
has  there  prevailed  the  like  uncertainty  about  the 
essence  of  the  religion.' 

' 1  look  not  with  much  hope  to  Christianity,'  said 
Fausta.  «  Yet  I  must  first  inform  myself  more  exactly 
concerning  it,  before  I  judge.' 

'  That  is  spoken  like  Fausta,'  said  Julia ;  '  and  it  is 
much  for  you  to  say  who  dislike  so  heartily  that  Paul, 
whom  I  am  constantly  wishing  you  to  hear.' 

'  Whenever  he  shall  lay  aside  a  little  of  his  pomp,  I 
may  be  willing  to  listen,'  replied  Fausta  ;  '  but  I  could 
ill  brook  a  discourse  upon  immortality  from  one  whose 
soul  seems  so  wedded  to  time.' 

'  Well,'  said  Julia,  '  but  let  us  not  be  Irawn  away 
from  our  subject.  I  admit  that  there  are  disputes 
among  the  Christians,  but,  like  the  disputes  among 
philosophers,  they  are  about  secondary  matters.  There 
is  no  dispute  concerning  the  great  and  chiefly  interest 
ing  part  of  the  religion — its  revelation  of  a  future  life 
Christians  have  never  divided  here,  nor  on  anothei 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  129 

great  point,  that  Christ,  the  founder  of  the  religion,  was 
a  true  messenger  from  God.  The  voice  of  Christiani 
ty  on  both  these  points  is  a  clear  one.  Thus,  I  think, 
every  one  will  judge,  who,  as  I  have  done,  will  read 
the  writings  in  which  the  religion  is  found.  And  I  am 
persuaded  it  is  because  it  is  so  plain  a  voice  here,  that 
it  is  bidding  fair  to  supersede  every  other  form  of  re 
ligion.  And  that  it  is  a  voice  from  God,  is,  it  seems 
to  me,  made  out  with  as  much  clearness  as  we  could 
look  for.  That  Christ,  the  author  of  this  religion,  was 
a  messenger  from  God,  was  shown  by  his  miracles. 
How  could  it  be  shown  otherwise  ?  I  can  conceive  of 
no  other  way  in  which  so  satisfying  proof  could  be 
given  of  the  agency  and  authority  of  God.  And  cer 
tainly  there  is  evidence  enough,  if  history  is  to  be 
believed,  that  he  wrought  many  and  stupendous  mira 
cles.' 

*  What  is  a  miracle  ?'  asked  Longinus. 

'  It  is  that,'  replied  Julia,  '  which  being  done  or  said, 
furnishes  satisfactory  proof  of  the  present  interposing 
power  of  God.  A  man  who,  by  a  word  spoken,  can 
heal  sick  persons,  and  raise  to  life  dead  ones,  can  be 
no  other  than  a  messenger  of  God  ! ' 

'  Why  not  of  some  other  superior  being — perhaps  a 
bad  one  ?' 

'  The  character,  teaching,  objects,  acts  of  Christ, 
make  it  unlikely,  if  not  impossible,  that  he  should 
have  been  sent  by  any  bad  intelligence.  And  that  he 
came  not  only  from  a  good  being,  but  from  God,  we 
may  believe  on  his  own  word.' 

'  His  goodness  may  have  been  all  assumed.  The 
whole  may  be  a  deception.' 

VOL.  i.  12 


130  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

*  Men  do  not  sacrifice  their  lives  merely  to  deceive, 
to  play  a  child's  game  before  the  world.  Christ  died 
to  show  his  attachment  to  his  cause,  and  with  him  in 
numerable  others.  Would  they  have  done  this  merely 
to  impose  upon  mankind  ?  And  for  what  purpose  ? — 
for  that  of  teaching  a  religion  inculcating  the  loftiest 
virtue  !  But  I  do  not  set  myself  forward  as  a  cham 
pion  of  this  new  religion,'  continued  Julia,  plainly 
disturbed  lest  she  might  have  seemed  too  earnest. 
*  Would  that  you,  Longinus,  could  be  persuaded  to 
search  into  its  claims.  If  you  would  but  read  the  books 
written  by  the  founders  of  it,  I  am  sure  you  would  say 
this  at  least,  that  such  books  were  never  written  before, 
nor  such  a  character  portrayed  as  that  of  Jesus  Christ. 
You  who  profess  yourself  charmed  with  the  poetry  of 
the  Jewish  Scriptures,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  senti 
ments  expressed  in  them,  would  not  be  less  impressed 
by  the  gentler  majesty,  the  mild,  sweet  dignity  of  the 
person  and  doctrine  of  Christ.  And  if  the  reasonings 
of  Socrates  and  Plato  have  any  power  to  convince  you 
of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  how  must  you  be  moved 
by  the  simple  announcements  of  the  truth  by  the  Naz- 
arene,  and  above  all  by  his  resurrection  from  the  dead! 
Christianity  boasts  already  powerful  advocates,  but  I 
wish  it  could  say  that  its  character  and  claims  had 
been  examined  by  the  great  Longinus.' 

The  soft  yet  earnest,  eloquent  tones  of  Julia's  voice 
fell  upon  .pleased  and  willing  ears.  The  countenance 
of  the  Greek  glowed  with  a  generous  satisfaction,  as 
he  listened  to  the  reasoning  of  his  fair  pupil,  poured 
forth  in  that  noble  tongue  it  had  been  his  task  and  his 
happiness  to  teach  her.  Evidently  desirous,  however, 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  131 

not  to  prolong  the  conversation,  he  addressed  himself 
to  the  Queen. 

*  You  are  pleased,'  said  he,  '  you  must  be,  with  the 
aptness  of  my  scholar.     Julia  has  not  studied  dialectics 
in  vain.     Before  I  can  feel  myself  able  to  contend  with 
her,  I  must  study  the  books  she  has  commended  so — 
from  which,  I  must  acknowledge,  I  have  been  repelled 
by  a  prejudice,  I  believe,  rather  than  any  thing  else, 
or  more  worthy — and  then,  perhaps,  I  may  agree  in 
opinion  with  her.' 

1  In  truth,'  said  Zenobia,  '  Julia  is  almost  or  quite  a 
Christian.  I  knew  not,  daughter,  that  Paul  had  made 
such  progress  in  his  work.  But  all  have  my  full  con 
sent  to  cherish  such  form  of  religious  faith  as  most 
approves  itself  to  their  own  minds.  I  find  my  highest 
satisfaction  in  Moses  and  the  prophets.  Happy  shall 
I  be  if  Julia  find  as  much,  or  more,  in  Christ  and  his 
apostles.  Sure  am  I,  there  is  no  beneficent  power  nor 
charm  in  the  religions  of  Greece,  or  Rome,  or  Persia, 
or  Egypt,  to  cause  any  of  us  to  adhere  to  them,  though 
our  very  infancy  were  instructed  in  their  doctrines.' 

*  It  is  not,  I  assure  you,'  said  Julia,  '  to  Paul  of 
Antioch  that  I  owe  such  faith  in  Christ  as  I  have,  but 
to  the  Christian  books  themselves  ;  or  if  to  any  human 
authority  besides,  to  St.  Thomas,  the  old  hermit  of  the 
mountain,  to  whom  I  would  that  every  one  should  re 
sort  who.  would  draw  near  to  the  purest  living  fountain 
of  Christian  knowledge.' 

*  I  trust,'  said  I,  '  that  at  some  future  time  I  may, 
with  your  guidance,  or  through  your  influence,  gain 
admittance  to  this  aged  professor  of  the  Christian  faith. 


1.32  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

I  confess  myself  now,  since  what  I  have  heard,  a  seeker 
after  Christian  knowledge.' 

'  Gladly  shall  I  take  you  there,'  replied  the  princess, 
*  and  gladly  will  St.  Thomas  receive  you.' 

We  now  at  the  same  time  rose  from  our  seats. 
Zenobia,  taking  the  hand  of  Fausta,  walked  toward 
the  palace  ;  Longinus,  with  folded  arms,  and  as  if 
absorbed  by  the  thoughts  which  were  passing  through 
his  mind,  began  to  pace  to  and  fro  beneath  the  thick 
shadows  of  a  group  of  orange  trees.  I  was  left  with 
Julia. 

'  Princess,'  said  I,  *  it  is  yet  early,  and  the  beauty  of 
the  evening  makes  it  wrong  to  shut  ourselves  up  from 
the  sight  of  so  fair  a  scene :  shall  we  follow  farther 
some  of  these  inviting  paths  ? ' 

'  Nothing  can  be  more  pleasant,'  said  she ;  '  these 
are  my  favorite  haunts,  and  I  never  am  weary  of  them, 
and  never  did  they  seem  to  me  to  wear  a  more  lovely 
aspect  than  now.  Let  me  be  your  guide,  and  I  will 
lead  you  by  a  winding  way  to  Zenobia's  Temple,  as 
we  call  it,  for  the  reason  that  it  is  her  chosen  retreat, 
as  the  arbor  which  we  have  now  left  is  mine.' 

So  we  began  to  walk  toward  the  spot  of  which  she 
spoke.  We  were  for  some  time  silent.  At  length  the 
princess  said,  '  Koman,  you  have  now  seen  Zenobia, 
both  as  a  queen  and  a  woman.  Has  fame  done  her 
more  than  justice  ?  ' 

'  Great  as  her  reputation  is  in  Rome,'  I  replied, 
4  fame  has  not,  to  my  ear  at  least,  brought  any  thing 
that  more  than  distantly  approaches  a  true  and  faithful 
picture  of  her.  We  have  heard  much  indeed — and 
yet  not  enough — of  her  surpassing  beauty,  of  the  vigor 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  133 

of  her  understanding,  of  her  vast  acquirements  in  the 
Greek  learning,  of  the  wisdom  and  energy  of  her  con 
duct  as  a  sovereign  queen,  of  her  skill  in  the  chase,  of 
her  bravery  and  martial  bearing,  when,  at  the  head  of 
her  troops,  she  leads  them  to  the  charge.  But  of  this 
union  of  feminine  loveliness  with  so  much  of  masculine 
power,  of  this  womanly  grace,  of  this  winning  conde 
scension, — so  that  it  loses  all  the  air  of  condescension, 
— to  those  even  much  beneath  her  in  every  human 
accomplishment  as  well  as  in  rank,  of  this  I  had  heard 
nothing,  and  for  this  I  was  not  prepared.  When,  in 
the  morning,  I  first  saw  her  seated  in  all  the  pride  of 
oriental  state,  and  found  myself  prostrate  at  her  feet, 
it  was  only  Zenobia  that  I  saw,  and  I  saw  what  I  ex 
pected.  But  no  sooner  had  she  spoken,  especially  no 
sooner  had  she  cast  that  look  upon  you,  princess,  when 
you  had  said  a  few  words  in  reply  to  me,  than  I  saw 
not  Zenobia  only,  but  the  woman  and  the  mother.  A 
veil  was  suddenly  lifted,  and  a  new  being  stood  before 
me.  It  seemed  to  me  that  moment,  that  I  knew  her 
better  than  I  know  myself.  I  am  sure  that  I  know 
her.  Her  countenance  all  living  with  emotion,  chang 
ing  and  working  with  every  thought  of  her  mind  and 
every  feeling  of  her  heart,  reveals  her  with  the  truth 
of  a  magic  mirror.  She  is  not  known  at  Rome.' 

'  I  am  sorry  for  it,'  said  Julia ;  '  if  they  only  knew 
her,  they  could  never  do  her  harm.  You,  Piso,  may 
perhaps  do  much  for  her.  I  perceive,  already,  that 
she  highly  regards  you,  and  values  your  opinion.  If 
you  are  willing  to  do  us  such  service,  if  you  feel 
interest  enough  in  our  fate,  speak  to  her,  I  pray  you, 
with  plainness,  all  that  you  think.  Withhold  nothing. 
VOL.  i.  12* 


134  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

Fear  not  to  utter  what  you  may  deem  to  be  most  un 
palatable  truths.  She  is  candid  and  generous  as  she 
is  ambitious.  She  will  at  least  hear  and  weigh  what 
ever  you  may  advance.  God  grant,  that  truth  may 
reach  her  mind,  and  reaching,  sway  it ! ' 

'  I  can  now  think  of  no  higher  satisfaction,'  I  replied, 
1  than  to  do  all  I  may,  as  a  Roman,  in  your  service.  I 
love  your  nation  ;  and  as  a  Roman  and  a  man,  I  desire 
its  welfare  and  permanent  glory.  Its  existence  is 
necessary  to  Rome  ;  its  ruin  or  decay  must  be,  viewed 
aright,  but  so  much  injury  to  her  most  vital  interests. 
Strange,  how  strange,  that  Zenobia,  formed  by  the 
gods  to  draw  her  happiness  from  sources  so  much  no 
bler  than  any  which  ambition  can  supply,  should  turn 
from  them,  and  seek  for  it  in  the  same  shallow  pool 
with  Alexander,  and  Aurelian,  and  the  hireling  soldier 
of  fortune ! ' 

*  Strange  indeed,'  said  Julia,  '  that  she  who  can  en 
ter  with  Longinus  into  the  deepest  mysteries  of  philo 
sophy,  and  whose  mind  is  stored  with  all  the  learning 
of  the  schools,  should  still  love  the  pomp  of  power 
better  than  all.  And  Fausta  is  but  her  second  self. 
Fausta  worships  Zenobia,  and  Zenobia  is  encouraged 
in  her  opinions  by  the  kindred  sentiments  of  that 
bright  spirit.  All  the  influence,  Piso,  which  you  can 
exert  over  Fausta  will  reach  Zenobia.' 

'  It  seems  presumptuous,  princess,'  said  I,  '  to  seek 
to  draw  the  minds  of  two  such  beings  as  Zenobia  and 
Fausta  to  our  bent.  Yet  surely  they  are  in  the  wrong.' 

'  It  is  something,'  quickly  added  the  princess,  *  that 
Longinus  is  of  our  mind ;  but  then  again  Zabdas  and 
Gracchus  are  a  host  on  the  other  part.  And  all  the 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  135 

power  and  pride  of  Palmyra  are  with  them  too.  But 
change  Zenobia,  and  we  change  all.  O  how  weary 
am  I  of  ambition,  and  how  sick  of  greatness  !  "Wil 
lingly  would  I  exchange  all  this  for  an  Arab's  tent,  or 
a  hermit's  cell.' 

'  The  gods  grant  that  may  never  be,'  I  replied  ;  « but 
that  you,  princess,  may  yet  live  to  sit  upon  the  throne 
of  Zenobia.' 

'  I  say  it  with  sincerity,  Roman — that  prayer  finds 
no  echo  in  my  bosom.  I  have  seen  enough  of  power, 
and  of  the  honors  that  wait  upon  it.  And  when  I  say 
this,  having  had  before  my  eyes  this  beautiful  vision 
of  Zenobia  reigning  over  subjects  as  a  mother  would 
reign  over  her  family,  dealing  justly  with  all,  and  liv 
ing  but  to  make  others  happy — you  must  believe  me. 
I  seek  and  love  a  calmer,  humbler  lot.  This,  Piso,  is 
the  temple  of  Zenobia.  Let  us  enter.' 

We  approached  and  entered.  It  was  a  small  build 
ing,  after  the  model  of  the  temple  of  Vesta  at  Tibur, 
constructed  of  the  most  beautiful  marbles,  and  adorned 
with  statues.  Within  were  the  seats  on  which  the 
Queen  was  accustomed  to  recline,  and  an  ample  table, 
covered  with  her  favorite  authors,  and  the  materials 
of  writing. 

*  It  is  here,'  said  Julia,  '  that,  seated  with  my  moth 
er,  we  listen  to  the  eloquence  of  Longinus,  while  he 
unfolds  the  beauties  of  the  Greek  or  Roman  learning ; 
or,  together  with  him,  read  the  most  famous  works  of 
former  ages.  With  Homer,  Thucydides,  and  Sopho 
cles  for  our  companions,  we  have  here  passed  precious 
hours  and  days,  and  have  the  while  happily  forgotten 
the  heavy  burden  of  a  nation's  cares.  I  have  forgotten 


136  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

them ;  not  so  Zenobia.  They  are  her  life,  and  from 
all  we  have  read  would  she  ever  draw  somewhat  that 
should  be  of  service  to  her  in  the  duties  of  her  great 
office.' 

Returning  to  the  surrounding  portico,  we  stood  and 
for  a  time  enjoyed  in  silence  the  calm  beauty  of  the 
scene. 

As  we  stood  thus, — Julia  gazing  upon  the  objects 
around  us,  or  lost  in  thought,  I  must  I  say  it?  see 
ing  scarce  any  thing  but  her,  and  thinking  only  of  her 
— as  we  stood  thus,  shouts  of  merry  laughter  came 
to  us,  borne  upon  the  breeze,  and  roused  us  from  our 
reverie. 

'  These  sounds,'  said  I,  'cannot  come  from  the  palace; 
it  is  too  far,  unless  these  winding  walks  have  deceived 
me.' 

'  They  are  the  voices,'  said  Julia,  *  I  am  almost  sure, 
of  Livia  and  Faustula,  and  the  young  Csesars.  They 
seem  to  be  engaged  in  some  sport  near  the  palace. 
Shall  we  join  them?' 

'  Let  us  do  so,'  said  I. 

So  we  moved  toward  that  quarter  of  the  gardens 
whence  the  sounds  proceeded.  A  high  wall  at  length 
separated  us  from  those  whom  we  sought.  But  reach 
ing  a  gate,  we  passed  through  and  entered  upon  a  lawn 
covered  as  it  seemed  with  children,  slaves,  and  the 
various  inmates  of  the  palace.  Here,  mingled  among 
the  motley  company,  we  at  once  perceived  the  Queen, 
and  Longinus  and  Fausta,  together  with  many  of  those 
whom  we  had  sat  with  at  the  banquet.  The  centre  of 
attraction,  and  the  cause  of  the  loud  shouts  of  laughter 
which  continually  arose,  was  a  small  white  elephant 


Z  E  N  0  B  I A  .  137 

with  which  the  young  princes  and  princesses  were 
amusing  themselves.  He  had  evidently  been  trained 
to  the  part  he  had  to  perform,  for  nothing  could  be  more 
expert  than  the  manner  in  which  he  went  through  his 
various  tricks.  Sometimes  he  chased  them  and  pre 
tended  difficulty  in  overtaking  them ;  then  he  would 
affect  to  stumble,  and  so  fall  and  roll  upon  the  ground ; 
then  springing  quickly  upon  his  feet,  he  would  surprise 
some  one  or  other  lurking  near  him,  and  seizing  him 
with  his  trunk  would  hold  him  fast,  or  first  whirling 
him  in  the  air,  then  seat  him  upon  his  back,  and  march 
gravely  round  the  lawn,  the  rest  following  and  shouting  j 
then  releasing  his  prisoner,  he  would  lay  himself  upon 
the  ground,  while  all  together  would  fearlessly  climb 
upon  his  back,  till  it  was  covered,  when  he  would  either 
suddenly  shake  his  huge  body,  so  that  one  after  another 
they  rolled  off,  or  he  would  attempt  to  rise  slowly  upon 
his  legs,  in  doing  which,  nearly  all  would  slip  from  off 
his  slanting  back,  and  only  two  or  three  succeed  in 
keeping  their  places.  And  other  sportive  tricks,  more 
than  it  would  be  worth  while  for  me  to  recount,  did  he 
perform  for  the  amusement  of  his  play-fellows.  And 
beautiful  was  it  to  see  the  carefulness  with  which  he 
trod  and  moved,  lest  any  harm  might  come  to  those 
children.  His  especial  favorite  was  the  little  flaxen- 
haired  Faustula.  He  was  never  weary  of  caressing 
her,  taking  her  on  his  trunk,  and  bearing  her  about, 
and  when  he  set  her  down,  would  wait  to  see  that  she 
was  fairly  on  her  feet  and  safe,  before  he  would  return 
to  his  gambols.  Her  voice  calling  out,  '  Sapor,  Sapor,' 
was  sure  to  bring  him  to  her,  when,  what  with  words 
and  signs,  he  soon  comprehended  what  it  was  she 


138  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

wanted.  I  myself  came  in  unwittingly  for  a  share  of 
the  sport.  For,  as  Faustula  came  bounding  by  me,  I 
did  as  those  are  so  apt  to  do  who  know  little  of  chil 
dren — I  suddenly  extended  my  arms  and  caught  her. 
She,  rinding  herself  seized  and  in  the  arms  of  one  she 
knew  not,  thought,  as  children  will  think,  that  she  was 
already  borne  a  thousand  leagues  from  her  home,  and 
screamed ;  whereupon  at  the  instant,  I  felt  myself 
taken  round  the  legs  by  a  force  greater  than  that  of  a 
man,  and  which  drew  them  together  with  such  violence 
that  instinctively  I  dropped  the  child,  and  at  the  same 
time  cried  out  with  pain.  Julia,  standing  next  me, 
incontinently  slapped  the  trunk  of  the  elephant — for  it 
was  that  twisted  round  me — with  her  hand,  at  which, 
leaving  me,  he  wound  it  lightly  round  the  waist  of  the 
princess,  and  held  her  his  close  prisoner.  Great  laugh 
ter  from  the  children  and  the  slaves  testified  their  joy 
at  seeing  their  elders,  equally  with  themselves,  in  the 
power  of  the  elephant.  Milo  being  of  the  number,  and 
in  his  foolish  exhilaration  and  sportive  approbation  of 
Sapor's  feats  having  gone  up  to  him  and  patted  him  on 
his  side,  the  beast,  receiving  as  an  affront  that  plebeian 
salutation,  quickly  turned  upon  him,  and  taking  him  by 
one  of  his  feet,  held  him  in  that  displeasing  manner — 
his  head  hanging  down — and  paraded  leisurely  round 
the  green,  Milo  making  the  while  hideous  outcry,  and 
the  whole  company,  especially  the  slaves  and  menials, 
filling  the  air  with  screams  of  laughter.  At  length 
Vabalathus,  thinking  that  Milo  might  be  injured,  called 
out  to  Sapor,  who  thereupon  released  him,  and  he, 
rising  and  adjusting  his  dress,  was  heard  to  affirm, 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  139 

that  it  had  never  happened  so  while  he  was  in  the  ser 
vice  of  Gallienus. 

These  things  for  the  little  Gallus. 

Satisfied  now  with  the  amusements  of  the  evening 
and  the  pleasures  of  the  day,  we  parted  from  one  another, 
filled  with  quite  different  sentiments  from  those  which 
had  possessed  us  in  the  morning.  Do  members  of  this 
great  human  family  ever  meet  each  other  in  social 
converse,  and  freely  open  their  hearts,  without  a  new 
and  better  strength  being  given  to  the  bonds  which 
hold  in  their  embrace  the  peace  and  happiness  of 
society  ?  To  love  each  other,  I  think  we  chiefly  need 
but  to  know  each  other.  Ignorance  begets  suspicion, 
suspicion  dislike  or  hatred,  and  so  we  live  as  strangers 
and  enemies,  when  knowledge  would  have  led  to  inti 
macy  and  friendship.  Farewell ! 


LETTER  VI. 


MANY  days  have  passed,  my  Curtius,  since  I  last 
wrote,  each  bringing  its  own  pleasures,  and  leaving 
its  ineffaceable  impressions  upon  the  soul.  But  though 
all  have  been  in  many  things  delightful,  none  has 
equalled  that  day  and  evening  at  the  palace  of  the 
Queen.  I  have  now  mingled  largely  with  the  best 
society  of  Palmyra.  The  doors  of  the  noble  and  the 


140  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

rich  have  been  opened  to  me  with  a  liberal  hospitality. 
As  the  friend  of  Gracchus  and  Fausta — and  now  I 
may  add  I  believe  without  presumption — of  Zenobia 
also,  of  Julia,  and  Longinus,  I  have  been  received  with 
attentions,  of  which  Aurelian  himself  might  with  reason 
have  been  proud.  More  and  more  do  I  love  this  peo 
ple,  more  and  more  fervently  do  I  beg  of  the  Being  or 
Beings  who  rule  over  the  affairs  of  men,  to  interpose 
and  defend  them  from  any  threatening  danger.  I 
grieve  that  the  rumors  still  reaching  us  from  Rome 
tend  so  much  to  confirm  the  belief  that  our  emperor  is 
making  preparations  for  an  eastern  expedition.  Yet  I 
cannot  bring  myself  to  think  that  he  aims  at  Zenobia. 
If  it  were  so,  would  there  be  first  no  communication 
with  the  Queen  ?  Is  it  like  Aurelian  to  plan  and  move 
so  secretly  ?  And  against  a  woman  too  ? — and  that 
woman  Zenobia  ?  I  '11  not  believe  it.  Your  letters 
would  not  be  what  they  are,  if  there  were  any  real 
purpose  like  that  which  is  attributed  to  Aurelian.  But 
time  will  make  its  revelations.  Meanwhile,  let  me  tell 
you  where  I  now  am,  and  what  pleasures  I  am  enjoy 
ing.  This  will  be  written  under  various  dates. 

I  write  to  you  from  what  is  called  the  Queen's 
Mountain  Palace,  being  her  summer  residence — occa 
sionally — either  to  avoid  the  greater  heats  of  the  city, 
or  that  she  may  divert  herself  with  athletic  sports  or 
hunting,  of  which  she  is'excessively  fond,  and  in  which 
she  has' few  equals  of  her  own  or  even  of  our  sex. 
Roman  women  of  the  present  day  would  be  amazed, 
perhaps  shocked,  to  be  told  what  the  sports  and  exer 
cises  are  in  which  this  great  eastern  Queen  finds  her 
pleasures.  She  is  not  more  exalted  above  the  women 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  141 

of  Rome  by  genius,  and  the  severer  studies  of  the 
closet,  than  she  is,  in  my  judgment,  by  the  manner 
and  fashion  of  her  recreations.  Let  not  the  dear 
Lucilia  be  offended.  Were  she  here  with  me,  her  fair 
and  generous  mind  would  rest,  I  am  sure,  after  due 
comparisons,  in  the  very  same  conclusions.  Fausta  is 
in  these  respects  too,  as  in  others,  but  her  second  self. 
There  is  not  a  feat  of  horsemanship  or  archery,  nor  an 
enterprise  in  the  chase,  but  she  will  dare  all  and  do  all 
that  is  dared  or  done  by  Zenobia ;  not  in  the  spirit  of 
imitation  or  even  rivalry,  but  from  the  native  impulses 
of  a  soul  that  reaches  at  all  things  great  and  difficult. 
And  even  Julia,  that  being  who  seems  too  ethereal  for 
earth,  and  as  if  by  some  strange  chance  she  were  mis 
placed,  being  here,  even  Julia  has  been  trained  in  the 
same  school,  and,  as  I  shall  show  you,  can  join  in  the 
chase,  and  draw  the  bow,  with  scarcely  less  of  skill  and 
vigor — with  no  less  courage — than  either  her  mother 
or  Fausta.  Although  I  have  now  seen  it,  I  still  can 
hardly  associate  such  excess  of  beauty — a  beauty  both 
of  form  and  face  so  truly  belonging  to  this  soft,  Syrian 
clime — with  a  strength  and  dexterity  at  every  exercise 
that  might  put  to  shame  many  a  Roman  who  wears 
both  a  beard  and  the  manly  gown.  But  this,  I  need 
not  say,  is  not  after  JuMa's  heart.  She  loves  more  the 
gentler  encounters  of  social  intercourse,  where  wit,  and 
sense,  and  the  affections,  have  their  full  play,  and  the 
god-like  that  is  within  us  asserts  its  supremacy. 

But  my  purpose  now  is  to  tell  you  how  and  why  it 
is  I  am  here,  and  describe  to  you  as  well  as  I  can  this 
new  Elysium  :  and  how  it  is  the  happy  spirits,  whom 
the  gods  have  permitted  to  dwell  here,  pass  their  hours. 

VOL.    I.  13 


142  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

I  am  here  by  the  invitation  of  the  Queen.  A  few 
days  after  that  which  we  had  so  highly  enjoyed  at  the 
palace,  she  expressed  her  desire  that  Gracchus,  Fausta, 
and  myself  would  accompany  her,  with  others  of  her 
select  friends,  to  her  retreat  among  the  hills,  there  to 
indulge  in  perfect  repose,  or  engage  in  the  rural  sports 
of  the  place,  according  to  our  pleasure.  I  was  not 
slow,  neither  were  Gracchus  and  Fausta,  to  accept  so 
agreeable  an  invitation.  '  I  feared,'  said  Fausta,  '  lest 
the  troubled  state  of  affairs  would  prevent  the  Queen 
from  taking  her  usual  vacation,  where  she  loves  best 
to  be.  But  to  say  the  truth,  Lucius,  I  do  not  think  the 
prospect  of  a  rupture  with  Rome  does  give  her  very 
serious  thought.  The  vision  of  a  trial  of  arms  with  so 
renowned  a  soldier  as  Aurelian,  is,  I  doubt,  not  wholly 
displeasing  to  her  ;  there  being  especially  so  good 
reason  to  believe  that  what  befell  Heraclianus  might 
befall  Aurelian.  Nay,  do  not  look  so  grave.  Rome 
is  not  fallen — yet.' 

'  Your  tongue,  Fausta,  is  lighter  than  your  heart. 
Yet  if  Rome  must  fall,  why  truly  I  know  not  at  whose 
feet  it  could  fall  so  worthily  as  those  of  Zenobia  and 
Fausta.  But  I  trust  its  destiny  is  never  to  fall.  Other 
kingdoms  as  great,  or  almost  as  great,  I  know  you  will 
say,  have  fallen,  and  Rome  must  in  its  turn.  It  seems, 
however,  I  must  say,  to  possess  a  principle  of  vitality 
which  never  before  belonged  to  any  nation.  Its  very 
vastness  too  seems  to  protect  it.  I  can  as  soon  believe 
that  shoals  of  sea-carp  may  overcome  the  whale,  or  an 
army  of  emmets  the  elephant  or  rhinoceros,  as  that 
one  nation,  or  many  banded  together,  can  break  down 
the  power  of  Rome.' 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  143 

'  How  very,  very  naturally  and  easily  is  that  said. 
Who  can  doubt  that  you  are  a  Roman,  born  upon  the 
Coelian  Hill !  Pity  but  that  we  Palmyrenes  could  copy 
that  high  way  you  Romans  have.  Do  you  not  think 
that  strength  and  success  lie  much  in  confidence  ? 
Were  every  Roman  such  as  you,  I  can  believe  you 
were  then  omnipotent.  But  then  we  have  some  like 
you.  Here  are  Zenobia  and  I ;  you  cannot  deny  that 
we  have  something  of  the  Roman  about  us.' 

'  I  confess  it  would  be  a  drawn  battle,  at  least,  were 
you  a  nation  of  Zenobias.  How  Fausta  is  at  the  lance, 
I  cannot  yet  tell.' 

'  That  you  shall  see  as  soon  as  we  are  among  the 
mountains.  Is  not  this  charming,  now,  in  the  Queen, 
to  bring  us  all  together  again  so  soon,  under  her  own 
roof  ?  And  such  a  place  too,  Lucius  !  We  shall  live 
there,  indeed ;  each  day  will  at  least  be  doubled.  For 
I  suppose  life  is  to  be  measured,  not  by  hours,  but 
sensations.  Are  you  ready  for  the  morning  start?  O, 
that  Solon  were  here  !  what  exquisite  mirth  should  we 
have  !  Milo  is  something ;  but  Solon  were  more.' 

'  Fausta,  Fausta,'  cried  Gracchus,  '  when  will  you  be 
a  woman  ? ' 

*  Never,  I  trust,'  replied  Fausta ;  *  if  I  may  then 
neither  laugh,  nor  cry,  nor  vex  a  Roman,  nor  fight  for 
our  Queen.  These  are  my  vocations,  and  if  I  must 
renounce  them,  then  I  will  be  a  man.' 

'  Either  sex  may  be  proud  to  gain  you,  my  noble 
girl,'  said  Gracchus. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  the  following  day,  all  at  the 
house  of  Gracchus  gave  note  of  preparation.  We  were 
to  meet  the  Queen  and  her  party  a  few  miles  from,  the 


144  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

walls  of  the  city,  at  an  appointed  place,  whence  we 
were  to  make  the  rest  of  the  journey  in  company.  We 
were  first  at  the  place  of  meeting,  which  was  a  rising 
ground,  shadowed  by  a  few  cedars,  with  their  huge 
branching  tops.  We  reined  up  our  horses  and  stood 
with  our  faces  toward  the  road,  over  which  we  had 
just  passed,  looking  to  catch  the  first  view  of  the  Queen. 
The  sun  was  just  rising  above  the  horizon,  and  touching 
with  its  golden  color  the  higher  objects  of  the  scene — 
the  tall  cedars — the  gray  crags,  which  here  and  there 
jutted  out  into  the  plain — the  towers,  and  columns,  and 
obelisks  of  the  still  slumbering  city. 

'  How  beautiful ! '  exclaimed  Fausta :  *  but  look !  that 
is  more  beautiful  still — that  moving  troop  of  horse  ! 
See  ! — even  at  this  distance  you  can  distinguish  the 
form  and  bearing  of  the  Queen.  How  the  slant  beams 
of  this  ruddy  sun  make  her  dress  and  the  harness  of  her 
gallant  steed  to  sparkle !  Is  it  not  a  fair  sight,  Lucius  ?  * 

It  was  beautiful  indeed.  The  Queen  was  conspicuous 
above  all,  not  more  for  her  form  and  bearing,  than  for 
the  more  than  imperial  magnificence  of  her  appoint 
ments.  It  is  thus  she  is  always  seen  by  her  people, 
dazzling  them  equally  by  her  beauties  and  her  state. 
As  she  drew  nearer,  I  felt  that  I  had  never  before  seen 
aught  on  earth  so  glorious.  The  fiery  Arabian  that 
bore  her  knew,  as  well  as  I,  who  it  was  that  sat  upon 
him ;  and  the  pride  of  his  carriage  was  visible  in  a 
thousand  expressive  movements.  Julia  was  at  her 
side,  differing  from  her  only  as  one  sun  differs  from 
another.  She,  like  Zenobia,  seemed  almost  a  part  of 
the  animal  that  bounded  beneath  her,  so  perfect  was 
the  art  with  which  she  rode. 


Z  £  N  0  B I  A  .  145 

*  A  fair  morning  to  you  all,'  cried  the  Queen,  accom 
panying  the  words  with  a  glance   that  was  reward 
enough  for  a  life  of  service.     *  The  day  smiles  upon 
our  enterprise.     Fausta,  if  you  will  join  me,  Piso  will 
take  care  of  Julia ;  as  for  our  Zabdas  and  Longinus, 
they  are  sad  loiterers.' 

Saying  these  things — scarcely  checking  her  steed — 
and  before  the  rest  of  the  party  had  quite  come  up — 
we  darted  on,  the  Queen  leading  the  way,  and,  as  is 
her  wont,  almost  at  the  top  of  her  horse's  speed. 

'  Zenobia,'  said  Julia,  *  is  in  fine  spirits  this  morning, 
as  you  may  judge  from  her  beaming  countenance, 
and  the  rate  at  which  she  travels.  But  we  can  hardly 
converse  while  we  are  going  so  fast.' 

'  No  bond  has  been  signed,'  said  I,  *  that  we  should 
ride  like  couriers.  Suppose,  princess,  we  slacken  our 
pace.' 

*  That  will  we,'   she  replied,  '  and  leave  it  to  the 
Queen  to  announce  our  approach.     Here  now,  alas  ! 
are  Zabdas  and  Longinus  overtaking  us.     The  Queen 
wonders  at  your  delay,'  said  she,  addressing  them ; 
'put  spurs  to  your  horses,  and  you  may  easily  overtake 
her.' 

'Is  it  required?'  asked  the  Egyptian,  evidently  wil 
ling  to  linger. 

'  Not  so  indeed,'  answered  Julia,  « but  it  would  be 
gallant ;  the  Queen,  save  Fausta,  is  alone.  How  can 
we  answer  it,  if  evil  befall  her  ?  Her  girth  may  break.' 

At  which  alarming  suggestion,  taking  it  as  merrily 
as  it  was  given,  the  two   counsellors  quickened  their 
pace,  and  bidding  us  good  morning,  soon,  as  we  saw 
at  the  ascent  of  a  little  hill,  overtook  Zenobia. 
VOL.  i.  13*= 


146  2  E  N  0  13  F  A 

For  the  rest  of  us,  we  were  passing  and  repassing 
each  other,  mingling  and  separating  all  the  remainder 
of  the  way.  Our  road  lay  through  a  rough  and 
hilly  country,  but  here  and  there  sprinkled  with  bright 
spots  of  the  richest  beauty  and  highest  cultivation. 
The  valleys,  whenever  we  descended  into  them,  we 
found  well  watered  and  tilled,  and  peopled  by  an  ap 
parently  happy  peasantry.  And  as  we  saw  them  from 
first  one  eminence  and  then  another,  stretching  away 
and  winding  among  the  hills,  we  agreed  that  they 
presented  delicious  retreats  for  those  who,  weary  of 
the  world,  \vished  to  taste,  toward  the  close  of  life,  the 
sweets  of  a  repose  which  the  world  never  knows.  As 
we  drew  toward  the  end  of  our  ride — a  ride  of  quite 
twenty  Roman  miles — we  found  ourselves  forsaken  of 
all  the  rest  of  the  company,  owing  either  to  our  horses 
not  being  equal  to  the  others,  or  rather,  perhaps,  to  the 
frequent  pauses  which  we  made  at  all  those  points 
where  the  scenery  presented  any  thing  beautiful  or 
uncommon. 

Every  thing  now  at  last  indicated  that  we  were  not 
far  from  the  royal  demesne.  All  around  were  marks 
of  the  hand  and  eye  of  taste  having  been  there,  and  of 
the  outlay  of  enormous  wealth.  It  was  not,  however, 
till  we  had,  for  a  mile  and  more,  ridden  through  lawns 
and  fields  covered  with  grain  and  fruit,  laid  out  in 
divisions  of  tillage  or  of  wood,  that,  emerging  from  a 
dark  grove,  we  came  within  sight  of  the  palace.  We 
could  just  discern,  by  the  glittering  of  the  sun  upon 
the  jewelry  of  their  horses,  that  the  last  of  the  company 
were  wheeling  into  the  grounds  in  front  of  what  seemed 
the  Principal  part  of  the  vast  structure.  That  we 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  147 

might  not  be  too  much  in  the  rear  of  all,  we  put  our 
horses  to  their  speed,  which  then,  with  the  fleetness  of 
wind,  bore  us  to  the  outer  gates  of  the  palace.  Pass 
ing  these,  we  were  in  a  moment  in  the  midst  of  those 
who  had  preceded  us,  the  grooms  and  slaves  of  the 
palace  surrounding  us,  and  taking  charge  of  our  horses. 
Zenobia  was  still  standing  in  the  great  central  portico, 
where  she  had  dismounted,  her  face  glowing  with  the 
excitement  of  the  ride,  and  engaged  in  free  discourse 
with  the  group  around  her.  Soon  as  Julia  reined  up 
her  horse,  and  quicker  than  any  other  could  approach, 
she  sprang  to  her  daughter's  side,  and  assisted  her  to 
dismount,  holding  with  a  strong  hand  the  while,  the 
fiery  and  restless  animal  she  rode. 

'  Welcome  in  safety,  Julia,'  said  the  Queen,  '  and 
thanks,  noble  Piso,  for  your  care  of  your  charge.  But 
perhaps  we  owe  your  safety  more  to  the  strength  of 
your  Arab's  girth,  than  to  any  care  of  Piso.' 

Julia's  laugh  rang  merrily  through  the  arches  of  the 
portico. 

'  Truly,'  said  she,  *  I  was  glad  to  use  any  sudden 
conceit  by  which  to  gain  a  more  solitary  ride  than  I 
was  like  to  have.  It  was  my  ambition  to  be  Piso's 
companion,  that  I  might  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  pointing 
out  to  new  eyes  the  beauties  of  the  country.  I  trust  I 
was  rightly  comprehended  by  our  grave  counsellors.' 

'  Assure  yourself  of  it,'  said  Longinus ;  '  and 
though  we  could  not  but  part  from  you  with  some 
unwillingness,  yet  seeing  whom  we  were  to  join,  we 
bore  the  loss  with  such  philosophy  as  we  were  able  to 
summon  on  the  sudden.' 

Zenobia  now  led  the  way  to  the  banqueting  hall, 


148  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

where  tables  loaded  with  meats,  fruits,  and  wines, 
offered  themselves  most  temptingly  and  seasonably,  to 
those  who  had  ridden,  as  I  have  said,  twenty  Roman 
miles. 

This  villa  of  the  Queen,  for  its  beauty  and  extent 
unrivalled  in  all  the  East,  I  would  that  I  could  set 
before  you,  so  that  you  might  form  some  conception 
of  its  greatness  and  variety.  The  palace  stands  at  the 
northern  extremity  of  a  vast  plain,  just  where  the  wild 
and  mountainous  region  ends,  and  the  more  level  and 
cultivated  begins.  To  the  North  stretches  a  savage 
country,  little  inhabited,  and  filled  with  the  wild  animals 
which  make  the  forests  of  Asia  so  terrible.  This  is 
the  Queen's  hunting-ground.  It  was  here  that,  with 
Odenatus,  she  pursued  the  wild  boar,  the  tiger,  or  the 
panther,  with  a  daring  and  a  skill  that  astonished  the 
boldest  huntsmen.  It  was  in  these  forests,  that  the 
wretch  Maeonius,  insolently  throwing  his  javelin  at  the 
game,  just  as  he  saw  his  uncle  was  about  to  strike, 
incurred  that  just  rebuke,  which  however  his  revenge 
ful  nature  never  forgave,  and  which  was  appeased  only 
with  the  blood  of  the  royal  Palmyrene.  Zenobia  is 
never  more  herself  than  when  she  joins  the  chase 
mounted  upon  her  fleet  Arabian,  and  roused  to  all  her 
power  by  the  presence  of  a  gallant  company  of  the 
boldest  spirits  of  Palmyra. 

The  southern  view,  and  which  my  apartments  over 
look,  presents  a  wide  expanse  of  level  ground,  or 
gently  undulating,  offering  a  various  prospect  of  culti 
vated  fields,  unbroken  lawns,  dense  groves,  of  standing 
or  flowing  waters,  of  light  bridges  spanning  them,  of 
pavilions,  arbors,  statues,  standing  out  in  full  view,  or 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  149 

just  visible  through  the  rich  foliage  or  brilliant  flow 
ering  plants  of  these  sunny  regions.  The  scene  is 
closed  by  the  low,  waving  outline  of  the  country, 
through  which  we  passed  on  the  morning  of  our  ride 
from  Palmyra,  over  which  there  is  spread  a  thin  veil 
of  purple  haze,  adding  a  new  charm  to  whatever  objects 
are  dimly  discerned  through  it.  At  one  point  only  can 
we,  when  this  vapor  is  by  any  cause  diminished,  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  loftier  buildings  of  the  distant  city. 
But  the  palace  itself,  though  it  be  the  work  of  man, 
and  not  of  gods,  is  not  less  beautiful  than  all  these 
aspects  of  nature.  It  is  wholly  built  after  the  light 
and  almost  fantastic  forms  of  the  Persian  architecture, 
which  seem  more  suited  to  a  residence  of  this  kind 
than  the  heavier  fashions  of  the  Greek  or  Roman  taste. 
Hadrian's  villa  is  alone  to  be  compared  with  it  for 
vastness  and  magnificence,  and  that,  by  the  side  of 
this,  seems  a  huge  prison,  so  gay  and  pleasing  are  the 
thoughts  and  sensations  which  this  dream-like  combi 
nation  of  arch  upon  arch,  of  pinnacle,  dome,  and  tower 
— all  enriched  with  the  most  minute  and  costly  work 
— inspires  the  mind. 

Nothing  has  pleased  me  more  than  at  times,  when 
the  sultry  heats  of  the  day  forbid  alike  study  and  rec 
reation,  to  choose  for  myself  some  remote  and  shaded 
spot,  and  lying  along  upon  the  flowery  turf,  soothed 
by  the  drowsy  hum  of  the  summer  insects,  gaze  upon 
this  gorgeous  pile  of  oriental  grandeur,  and  lazily  drink 
in  the  draughts  of  a  beauty,  as  I  believe,  no  where  else 
to  be  enjoyed.  When  at  such  hours  Julia  or  Fausta 
is  my  companion,  I  need  not  say  in  how  great  degree 
the  pleasure  is  heightened,  nor  what  hues  of  a  more 


150  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

rosy  tint  wrap  all  the  objects  of  the  scene.  Fountains 
here,  as  every  where  in  the  Eastern  world,  are  frequent, 
and  of  such  size  as  to  exert  a  sensible  influence  upon 
the  heated  atmosphere.  Huge  columns  of  the  coldest 
water,  drawn  from  the  recesses  of  the  mountains,  are 
thrown  into  the  air,  and  then  falling  and  foaming  over 
rocks  rudely  piled,  to  resemble  some  natural  cascade, 
disappear,  and  are  led  by  subterranean  conduits  to 
distant  and  lower  parts  of  the  ground.  These  foun 
tains  take  many  and  fantastic  forms.  In  the  centre  of 
the  principal  court  of  the  palace,  it  is  an  enormous 
elephant  of  stone,  who  disgorges  from  his  uplifted 
trunk  a  vast  but  graceful  shower,  sometimes  charged 
with  the  most  exquisite  perfumes,  and  which  are  dif 
fused  by  the  air  through  every  part  of  the  palace. 
Around  this  fountain,  reclining  upon  seats  constructed 
to  allow  the  most  easy  attitudes,  or  else  in  some  of  the 
apartments  immediately  opening  upon  it,  it  is  our 
custom  to  pass  the  evening  hours,  either  conversing 
with  each  other,  or  listening  to  some  tale  which  he 
who  thinks  he  can  entertain  the  company  is  at  liberty 
to  relate,  or  gathering  at  once  instruction  and  delight, 
as  Longinus,  either  from  his  memory  or  a  volume, 
imparts  to  us  choice  selections  of  the  literature  of 
Athens  or  Rome.  So  have  I  heard  the  GEdipus  Ty- 
rannus,  and  the  Prometheus,  as  I  never  have  heard 
them  before. 

At  such  times,  it  is  beautiful  to  see  the  group  of 
listeners  gathering  nearer  and  nearer,  as  the  philoso 
pher  reads  or  recites,  and  catching  every  word  and 
accent  of  that  divine  tongue,  as  it  falls  from  his  lips. 
Zenobia  alone,  of  all  who  are  there,  ever  presumes  to 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  151 

interrupt  the  reader  with  either  question  or  comment. 
To  her  voice  Longinus  instantly  becomes  a  willing 
listener ;  and  well  may  he :  for  never  does  she  speak, 
at  such  moments,  without  adding  a  new  charm  to 
whatever  theme  she  touches.  Her  mind,  surprisingly 
clear,  and  deeply  imbued  with  the  best  spirit  of  ancient 
learning,  and  poetically  cast,  becomes  of  right  our 
teacher ;  and  commands  always  the  profound  respect, 
if  not  always  the  assent,  of  the  accomplished  Greek. 
Not  unfrequently,  on  such  casual  remark  of  the  Queen, 
the  reading  is  thereupon  suspended,  and  discussion 
between  her  and  the  philosopher,  or  conversation  upon 
topics  suggested  in  which  we  all  take  part,  ensues. 
But,  however  this  may  be,  all  moves  on  in  a  spirit  the 
most  liberal,  frank,  and  free.  No  restraint  is  upon  us 
but  that  which  reverence  for  superior  learning,  or 
goodness,  or  beauty  imposes.  I  must  add,  that  on 
these  occasions  the  great  Zabdas  is  always  seen  to 
compose  himself  to  his  slumbers,  from  which  he  often 
starts,  uttering  loud  shouts,  as  if  at  the  head  of  his 
troops.  Our  bursts  of  laughter  wake  him  not,  but  by 
the  strange  power  of  sleep  seem  to  be  heard  by  him  as 
if  they  were  responsive  cries  of  the  enemy,  and  only 
cause  him  to  send  forth  louder  shouts  than  ever,  '  Down 
with  the  Egyptian  dogs  !'  'Let  the  Nile  choke  with 
their  carcasses  ! ' — '  The  Queen  forever  ! '  and  then  his 
voice  dies  away  in  inarticulate  sounds. 

But  I  should  weary  you  indeed,  were  I  to  go  on  to 
tell  you  half  the  beauties  and  delights  of  this  chosen 
spot,  and  cause  you,  perhaps,  to  be  discontented  with 
that  quiet,  modest  house,  upon  the  banks  of  the  Tiber. 
I  leave  you  therefore  to  fill  up  with  your  own  colors 


152  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

the  outline  which  I  have  now  set  before  you,  as  I  best 
could,  and  pass  to  other  things. 

Every  day  has  seen  its  peculiar  games  and  enter 
tainments.  Sometimes  the  Queen's  slaves,  trained  to 
their  respective  feats,  have  wrestled,  or  fought,  or  run, 
for  our  amusement.  At  other  times,  we  ourselves 
have  been  the  performers.  Upon  the  race-course,  fleet 
Arabians  have  contended  for  the  prize,  or  they,  who 
have  esteemed  themselves  skilful,  have  tried  for  the 
mastery  in  two  or  four  horse  chariots.  Elephants  have 
been  put  to  their  strength,  and  dromedaries  to  their 
speed.  But  our  chief  pleasure  has  been  derived  from 
trials  of  skill  and  of  strength  with  the  lance  and  the 
arrow,  and  from  the  chase. 

It  was  in  using  the  lance,  that  Antiochus — a  kins 
man  of  the  Queen,  whom  I  believe  I  have  not  before 
mentioned,  although  I  have  many  times  met  him — 
chiefly  signalized  himself.  This  person,  half  Syrian 
and  half  Roman,  possessing  the  bad  qualities  of  both, 
and  the  good  ones  of  neither,  was  made  one  of  this 
party,  rather,  I  suppose,  because  he  could  not  be  left 
out,  than  because  he  was  wanted.  He  has  few  friends 
in  Palmyra,  but  among  wild  and  dissolute  spirits  like 
himself.  He  is  famed  for  no  quality  either  great  or 
good.  Violent  passions  and  intemperate  lusts  are 
what  he  is  chiefly  noted  for.  But,  except  that  pride 
and  arrogance  are  writ  upon  the  lines  of  his  counte 
nance,  you  would  hardly  guess  that  his  light-tinted  and 
beardless  cheeks  and  soft  blue  eyes  belonged  to  one  of 
so  dark  and  foul  a  soul.  His  frame  and  his  strength 
are  those  of  a  giant ;  yet  is  he  wholly  destitute  of  grace. 
His  limbs  seem  sometimes  as  if  they  were  scarcely  a 


ZENOBIA.  153 

part  of  him,  such,  difficulty  does  he  discover  in  mar 
shalling  them  aright.  Consciousness  of  this  embar 
rasses  him,  and  sends  him  for  refuge  to  his  pride, 
which  darts  looks  of  anger  and  bitter  revenge  upon  all 
who  offend  or  make  light  of  him.  His  ambition  is, 
and  his  hope,  to  succeed  Zenobia.  You  may  think 
this  strange,  considering  the  family  of  the  Queen. 
But  as  for  the  sons  of  Zenobia,  he  calculates  much,  so 
it  is  reported,  upon  their  weakness  both  of  mind  and 
body,  as  rendering  them  distasteful  to  the  Palmyrenes, 
even  if  they  should  live ;  and  as  for  Julia  and  her 
sisters,  he  has  so  high  conceptions  of  his  own  superior 
merit,  that  he  doubts  not  in  case  of  the  Queen's  demise, 
that  the  people  would  by  acclamation  select  him,  in 
preference  to  them,  as  her  successor ;  or  in  the  last 
emergency,  that  it  would  be  but  to  marry  Julia,  in 
order  to  secure  the  throne  beyond  any  peradventure. 
These  are  the  schemes  which  many  do  not  scruple  to 
impute  to  him.  Whether  credited  or  not  by  Zenobia, 
I  cannot  tell.  But  were  they,  I  believe  she  would  but 
smile  at  the  poor  lack-brain  who  entertains  them.  In 
trenched  as  she  is  in  the  impregnable  fortress  of  her 
people's  heart,  she  might  well  despise  the  intrigues  of 
a  bolder  and  worthier  spirit  than  Antiochus.  For 
him  she  can  spare  neither  words  nor  thoughts. 

It  was  Fausta  who  a  few  days  ago,  as  we  rose  from 
the  tables,  proposed  that  we  should  try  our  strength 
and  skill  in  throwing  the  lance.  '  I  promised  you, 
Lucius,'  said  she,  *  that  when  here,  you  should  be 
permitted  to  judge  of  my  abilities  in  that  art.  Are  al] 
ready  for  the  sport  ? ' 

VOL.  i.  14 


154  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

All  sprang  from  their  seats,  like  persons  weary  of 
one  occupation,  and  grateful  for  the  proffer  of  another* 

Zenobia  led  the  way  to  the  grounds,  not  far  from 
the  palace,  appropriated  to  games  of  this  kind,  and  to 
the  various  athletic  sports.  Not  all  the  company 
entered  the  lists,  but  many  seated  themselves,  or  stood 
around,  spectators  of  the  strife.  Slaves  now  appeared, 
bearing  the  lances,  and  preparing  the  ground  for  our 
exercise.  The  feat  to  be  performed  seemed  to  me  not 
difficult  so  much  as  impossible.  It  was  to  throw  the 
lance  with  such  unerring  aim  and  force,  as  to  pass 
through  an  aperture  in  a  shield  of  four-fold  ox-hide,  of 
a  size  but  slightly  larger  than  the  beam  of  the  lance. 
so  as  not  so  much  as  to  graze  the  sides  of  the  perfo 
rated  place.  The  distance  too  of  the  point  from  which 
the  lance  was  to  be  thrown,  from  the  shield,  was  such 
as  to  require  great  strength  of  arm  to  overcome  it. 

The  young  Caesars  advanced  first  to  the  trial. 
'Now,'  whispered  Fausta,  'behold  the  vigor  of  the 
royal  arm.  Were  such  alone  our  defence,  well  might 
Palmyra  tremble.' 

Herennianus,  daintily  handling  and  brandishing  his 
lance,  in  the  manner  prescribed  at  the  schools,  where 
skill  in  all  warlike  arts  is  taught,  and  having  drawn 
all  eyes  upon  him,  at  length  let  it  fly,  when,  notwith 
standing  so  much  preparatory  flourish,  it  fell  short  of 
the  staff  upon  which  the  shield  was  reared. 

'  Just  from  the  tables,'  said  the  prince,  as  he  with 
drew,  angry  at  his  so  conspicuous  failure ;  '  and  how 
can  one  reach  what  he  can  scarcely  see  ? ' 

'  Our  arm  has  not  yet  recovered  from  its  late  injury,' 
said  Timolaus,  as  he  selected  his  weapon  ;  '  yet  will 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  155 

we  venture  a  throw.'  His  lance  reached  the  mast,  but 
dropped  feebly  at  his  foot.  Vabalathus,  saying  nothing, 
and  putting  all  his  strength  in  requisition,  drove  his 
weapon  into  the  staff,  where  it  stood  quivering  a  mo 
ment,  and  fell  to  the  ground. 

Carias,  Seleucus,  Otho,  Gabrayas,  noblemen  of  Pal 
myra,  now  successively  tried  their  fortune,  and  all 
showed  themselves  well  trained  to  the  use  of  the 
weapon,  by  each  fixing  his  lance  in  the  body  of  the 
shield,  and  in  the  near  neighborhood  of  the  central  hole. 

Zabdas  now  suddenly  springing  from  his  seat,  which 
he  had  taken  among  those  who  apparently  declined  to 
join  in  the  sport,  seized  a  lance  from  the  hands  of  the 
slave  who  bore  them,  and  hurling  it  with  the  force  of 
a  tempest,  the  weapon,  hissing  along  the  air,  struck  the 
butt  near  the  centre ;  but  the  wood  of  which  it  was 
made,  unused  to  such  violence,  shivered  and  crumbled 
under  the  blow.  Without  a  word,  and  without  an 
emotion,  so  far  as  the  face  was  its  index,  the  Egyptian 
returned  to  his  seat.  It  seemed  as  if  he  had  done  the 
whole  in  his  sleep.  It  is  actual  war  alone  that  can 
rouse  the  energies  of  Zabdas. 

Zenobia,  who  had  stood  leaning  upon  her  lance,  next 
advanced  to  the  trial.  Knowing  her  admirable  skill  at 
all  manly  exercises,  I  looked  with  certainty  to  see  her 
surpass  those  who  had  already  essayed  their  powers. 
Nor  was  I  disappointed.  With  a  wonderful  grace  she 
quickly  threw  herself  into  the  appointed  position,  and 
with  but  a  moment's  preparation,  and  as  if  it  cost  her 
but  a  slight  effort,  sent  her  lance,  with  unerring  aim 
and  incredible  swiftness,  through  the  hole.  Yet  was 
not  the  feat  a  perfect  one.  For,  in  passing  through  the 


156  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

aperture,  the  weapon  not  having  been  driven  with  quite 
sufficient  force,  did  not  preserve  its  level,  so  that  the 
end  grazed  the  shield,  and  the  lance  then  consequently 
taking  an  oblique  direction,  plunged  downward  and 
buried  its  head  in  the^turf. 

*  Now,  Faustfi,'  said  the  Queen,  *  must  you  finish 
what  I  have  but  begun.  Let  us  now  see  your  weapon 
sweep  on  till  its  force  shall  be  evenly  spent.' 

'  When  Zenobia  fails,'  said  Fausta,  '  there  must  be 
some  evil  influence  abroad  that  shall  cripple  the  powers 
of  others  yet  more.  However,  let  me  try ;  for  I  have 
promised  to  prove  to  our  Roman  friend  that  the  women 
of  Palmyra  know  the  use  of  arms  not  less  than  the  men.* 

So  saying,  she  chose  her  lance,  and  with  little 
ceremony,  and  almost  before  our  eyes  could  trace  her 
movements,  the  weapon  had  flown,  and  passing  through, 
as  it  seemed,  the  very  centre  of  the  perforated  space, 
swept  on  till  its  force  died  away  in  the  distance,  and 
it  fell  gracefully  to  the  ground. 
A  burst  of  applause  arose  from  the  surrounding  groups. 

'  I  knew,'  said  Zenobia,  *  that  I  could  trust  the  fame 
of  the  women  of  Palmyra  to  you.  At  the  harp,  the 
needle,  or  the  lance,  our  Fausta  has  no  equal ;  unless,' 
turning  herself  round,  '  in  my  own  Julia.  Now  we 
will  see  what  your  arm  can  do.' 

Standing  near  the  lances,  I  selected  one  eminent  for 
its  smoothness  and  polish,  and  placed  it  in  her  hand. 

With  a  form  of  so  much  less  apparent  vigor  than 
either  Zenobia  or  Fausta,  so  truly  Syrian  in  a  certain 
soft  languor  that  spreads  itself  over  her,  whether  at 
rest  or  in  motion,  it  was  amazing  to  see  with  what 
easy  strength  she  held  and  balanced  the  heavy  weapon. 


,-.- 

157 

Every  movement  showed  that  there  lay  concealed 
within  her  ample  power  for  this  and  every  manly  ex 
ercise,  should  she  please  to  put  it  forth. 

'  At  the  schools,'  said  the  princess,  «  Fausta  and  I 
went  on  ever  with  equal  steps.  Her  advantage  lies  in 
being  at  all  times  mistress  of  her  power.  My  arm  is 
often  treacherous,  through  failure  of  the  heart.' 

It  was  not  difficult  to  see  the  truth  of  what  she  said, 
in  her  varying  color,  and  the  slightly  agitated  lance. 

But  addressing  herself  to  the  sport,  and  with  but  one 
instant's  pause,  the  lance  flew  toward  the  shield,  and 
entering  the  opening,  but  not  with  a  perfect  direction, 
it  passed  not  through,  but  hung  there  by  the  head. 

*  Princess,'  said  Zabdas,  springing  from  his  repose 
with  more  than  wonted  energy,  *  that  lance  was  chosen, 
as  I  saw,  by  a  Roman.     Try  once  more  with  one  that 
I  shall  choose,  and  see  what  the  issue  will  be.' 

'  Truly,'  said  Julia,  *  I  am  ready  to  seize  any  plea 
under  which  to  redeem  my  fame.  But  first  give  me 
yourself  a  lesson,  will  you  not  ? ' 

The  Egyptian  was  not  deaf  to  the  invitation,  and 
once  more  essaying  the  feat,  and  with  his  whole  soul 
bent  to  the  work,  the  lance,  quicker  than  sight,  darted 
from  his  hand,  and  following  in  the  wake  of  Fausta's, 
lighted  farther  than  hers — being  driven  with  more 
force — upon  the  lawn. 

The  princess  now,  with  more  of  confidence  in  her 
air,  again  balanced  and  threw  the  lance  which  Zabdas 
had  chosen — this  time  with  success ;  for,  passing 
through  the  shield,  it  fell  side  by  side  with  Fausta's. 

*  Fortune  still  unites  us,'  said  Julia ;  *  if  for  a  time 
she  leaves  me  a  little  in  the  rear,  yet  she  soon  repents 

VOL.  i.  14* 


158  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

of  the  wrong,  and  brings  me  up.'  Saying  which,  she 
placed  herself  at  Fausta's  side. 

*  But  come,  our  worthy  cousin,'  said  the  Queen,  now 
turning  and  addressing  Antiochus,  who  stood  with 
folded  arms,  dully  surveying  the  scene,  '  will  you  not 
try  a  lance  ? ' 

'  'T  is  hardly  worth  our  while,'  said  he,  *  for  the  gods 
seem  to  have  delivered  all  the  honor  and  power  of  the 
East  into  the  hands  of  women.' 

'  Yet  it  may  not  be  past  redemption,'  said  Julia,  *  and 
who  more  likely  than  Hercules  to  achieve  so  great  a 
work  ?  Pray  begin.' 

That  mass  of  a  man,  hardly  knowing  whether  the 
princess  were  jesting  or  in  earnest — for  to  the  usual 
cloud  that  rested  upon  his  intellect,  there  was  now 
added  the  stupidity  arising  from  free  indulgence  at  the 
tables — slowly  moved  toward  the  lances,  and  selecting 
the  longest  and  heaviest,  took  his  station  at  the  proper 
place.  Raising  then  his  arm,  which  was  like  a 
weaver's  beam,  and  throwing  his  enormous  body  into 
attitudes  which  showed  that  no  child's  play  was  going 
on,  he  let  drive  the  lance,  which,  shooting  with  more 
force  than  exactness  of  aim,  struck  upon  the  outer  rim  of 
the  shield,  and  then  glancing  sideways  was  near  spear 
ing  a  poor  slave,  whose  pleasure  it  was,  with  others,  to 
stand  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  butt,  to  pick  up  and 
return  the  weapons  thrown,  or  withdraw  them  from  the 
shield,  where  they  might  have  fastened  themselves. 

Involuntary  laughter  broke  forth  upon  this  unwonted 
performance  of  the  lance ;  upon  which  it  was  easy  to 
see,  by  the  mounting  color  of  Antiochus,  that  his 
passions  were  inflamed.  Especially — did  we  after- 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  159 

ward  suppose — was  he  enraged  at  the  exclamation  of 
one  of  the  slaves  near  the  shield,  who  was  heard  to  say 
to  his  fellow :  *  Now  is  the  reign  of  women  at  an  end.' 
Seizing,  however,  on  the  instant,  another  lance,  he  was 
known  to  exclaim,  by  a  few  who  stood  near  him,  but 
who  did  not  take  the  meaning  of  his  words  :  '  With  a 
better  mark,  there  may  be  a  better  aim.'  Then  resum 
ing  his  position,  he  made  at  first,  by  a  long  and  steady 
aim,  as  if  he  were  going,  with  certainty  now,  to  hit  the 
shield;  but,  changing  suddenly  the  direction  of  his 
lance,  he  launched  it  with  fatal  aim,  and  a  giant's 
force,  at  the  slave  who  had  uttered  those  words.  It 
went  through  him,  as  he  had  been  but  a  sheet  of 
papyrus,  and  then  sung  along  the  plain.  The  poor 
wretch  gave  one  convulsive  leap  into  the  air,  and 
dropped  dead. 

'  Zenobia ! '  exclaimed  Julia. 

'  Great  Queen  ! '  said  Fausta. 

'  Shameful ! ' — «  dastardly ! ' — '  cowardly  ! ' — broke 
from  one  and  another  of  the  company. 

*  That 's  the  mark  I  never  miss,'  observed  Antiochus ; 
and  at  the  same  time  regaled  his  nose  from  a  box  of 
perfume. 

'  'T  is  his  own  chattel,'  said  the  Queen ;  '  he  may  do 
with  it  as  he  lists.  He  has  trenched  upon  no  law  of 
the  realm,  but  only  upon  those  of  breeding  and  hu 
manity.  Our  presence,  and  that  of  this  company, 
might,  we  think,  have  claimed  a  more  gentle  obser 
vance.' 

*  Dogs  ! '  fiercely  shouted  Antiochus — who,  as  the 
Queen  said  these  words,  her  eyes  fastened  indignantly 
upon  him,  had  slunk  sulkily  to  his  seat — *  dogs,'  said 


160  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

he,  aiming  suddenly  to  brave  the  matter,  '  off  with 
yonder  carrion ! — it  offends  the  Queen.' 

'  Would  our  cousin,'  said  Zenobia,  *  win  the  hearts 
of  Palmyra,  this  surely  is  a  mistaken  way.  Come,  let 
us  to  the  palace.  This  spot  is  tainted.  But  that  it 
may  be  sweetened  as  far  as  may  be,  slaves  ! '  she  cried, 
'bring  to  the  gates  the  chariot,  and  other  remaining 
chattels  of  Antiochus  ! ' 

Antiochus,  at  these  words,  pale  with  the  apprehen 
sions  of  a  cowardly  spirit,  rose  and  strode  toward  the 
palace,  from  which,  in  a  few  moments,  he  was  seen  on 
his  way  to  the  city. 

'  You  may  judge  me  needlessly  harsh,  Piso,'  said  the 
Queen,  as  we  now  sauntered  toward  the  palace,  '  but 
truly  the  condition  of  the  slave  is  such,  that  seeing  the 
laws  protect  him  not,  we  must  do  something  to  enlist 
in  his  behalf  the  spirit  of  humanity.  The  breach  of 
courtesy,  however,  was  itself  not  to  be  forgiven.' 

'  It  was  a  merciful  fate  of  the  slave,'  said  I,  *  com 
pared  with  what  our  Roman,  slaves  suffer.  To  be 
lashed  to  death,  or  crucified,  or  burned,  or  flayed  alive, 
or  torn  by  dogs,  or  thrown  as  food  for  fishes,  is  some 
thing  worse  than  this  quick  exit  of  the  thrall  of  Anti 
ochus.  You  of  these  softer  climes  are  in  your  natures 
milder  than  we,  and  are  more  moved  by  scenes  like 
this.  What  would  you  think,  Queen,  to  see  not  one, 
but  scores  or  hundreds  of  these  miserable  beings,  upon 
bare  suspicion  of  attempts  against  their  master's  life, 
condemned,  by  their  absolute  irresponsible  possessors, 
to  death  in  all  its  most  revolting  forms  ?  Nay,  even 
our  Roman  women,  of  highest  rank,  and  gentlest  nur 
ture,  stand  by  while  their  slaves  are  scourged,  or  them- 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  161 

selves  apply  the  lash.  If  under  this  torture  they  die, 
it  is  thought  of  but  as  of  the  death  of  vermin.  War 
has  made  with  us  this  sort  of  property  of  so  cheap 
possession,  that  to  destroy  it  is  often  a  useful  measure 
of  economy.  By  a  Roman,  nothing  is  less  regarded 
than  life.  And  in  truth,  I  see  not  how  it  can  be  other 
wise.' 

'  But  surely,'  said  Julia, '  you  do  not  mean  to  defend 
this  condition  of  life.  It  is  not  like  the  sentiments  I 
have  heard  you  express.' 

*  I  defend  it  only  thus,'  I  replied :  *  so  long  as  we 
have  wars — and  when  will  they  cease  ? — there  must 
be  captives  ;  and  what  can  these  be  but  slaves  ?  To 
return  them  to  their  own  country,  were  to  war  to  no 
purpose.  To  colonize  them  were  to  strip  war  of  its 
horrors.  To  make  them  freemen  of  our  own  soil, 
were  to  fill  the  land  with  foes  and  traitors.  Then  if 
there  must  be  slaves,  there  must  be  masters  and  owners. 
And  the  absolute  master  of  other  human  beings,  respon 
sible  to  no  one,  can  be  no  other  than  a  tyrant.  If  he 
has,  as  he  must  have,  the  power  to  punish  at  will, 
he  will  exercise  it,  and  that  cruelly.  If  he  has  the 
power  to  kill,  as  he  must  have,  then  will  he  kill  and 
kill  cruelly,  when  his  nature  prompts.  And  this  his 
nature  will  prompt,  or  if  not  his  nature  absolutely,  yet 
his  educated  nature.  Our  children  grow  up  within  the 
sight  and  sound  of  all  the  horrors  and  sufferings  of 
this  state  of  things.  They  use  their  slaves — with 
which,  almost  in  infancy,  they  are  provided — according 
to  their  pleasure — as  dogs,  as  horses ;  they  lash,  the} 
scourge  them,  long  before  they  have  the  strength  to 
kill.  What  wonder  if  the  boy,  who,  when  a  boy,  used 


162  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

a  slave  as  his  beast  of  burden,  or  his  footstool,  when  he 
grows  to  be  a  man,  should  use  him  as  a  mark  to  be 
shot  at?  The  youth  of  Antiochus  was  reared  in  Rome. 
I  presume  to  say  that  his  earliest  play-things  were 
slaves,  and  the  children  of  slaves.  I  am  not  surprised 
at  his  act.  And  such  acts  are  too  common  in  Rome, 
for  this  to  disturb  me  much.  The  education  of  Anti 
ochus  was  continued  and  completed,  I  may  venture 
also  to  say,  at  the  circus.  I  think  the  result  very 
natural.  It  cannot  be  very  different,  where  slavery 
and  the  sports  of  the  amphitheatre  exist.' 

'  I  perceive  your  meaning,'  said  Julia :  '  Antiochus 
you  affirm  to  be  the  natural  product  of  the  customs  and 
institutions  which  now  prevail.  It  is  certainly  so,  and 
must  continue  so,  until  some  new  element  shall  be 
introduced  into  society,  that  shall  ultimately  reform  its 
practices,  by  first  exalting  the  sentiments  and  the 
character  of  the  individual.  Such  an  element  do  I 
detect ' 

'  In  Christianity,'  said  Fausta:  *  this  is  your  panacea. 
May  it  prove  all  you  desire ;  yet  methinks  it  gives 
small  promise,  seeing  it  has  already  been  at  work  more 
than  two  hundred  years,  and  has  accomplished  no  more.' 

'  A  close  observer,'  replied  Julia,  '  sees  much  of  the 
effect  of  Christianity  beside  that  which  appears  upon 
the  surface.  If  I  err  not  greatly,  a  few  years  more  will 
reveal  what  this  religion  has  been  doing  these  two 
centuries  and  more.  Revolutions  which  are  acted  out 
in  a  day,  have  often  been  years  or  centuries  in  prepara 
tion.  An  eye  that  will  see,  may  see  the  final  issue,  a 
long  time  foreshadowed  in  the  tendencies  and  character 
of  a  preceding  age.' 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  163 

The  princess  uttered  this  with  earnestness.  I  have 
reflected  upon  it.  And  if  you,  my  Curtius,  will  look 
around  upon  the  state  of  the  empire,  you  will  find  many 
things  to  startle  you.  But  of  this  another  time. 

Assembled  in  the  evening  in  the  court  of  the  elephant, 
we  were  made  to  forget  whatever  had  proved  disagree 
able  during  the  day,  while  we  listened  to  the  '  Frogs,' 
read  by  Julia  and  Longinus. 

The  following  day  was  appointed  for  the  chase,  and 
early  in  the  morning  I  was  waked  by  the  braying  of 
trumpets,  and  the  baying  of  dogs.  I  found  the  Queen 
already  mounted  and  equipped  for  the  sport,  surround 
ed  by  Zabdas,  Longinus,  and  a  few  of  the  nobles  of 
Palmyra.  We  were  soon  joined  by  Julia  and  Fausta. 
In  order  to  insure  our  sport,  a  tiger,  made  fierce  by 
being  for  some  days  deprived  of  food,  had  the  preceding 
evening  been  let  loose  from  the  royal  collection  into 
the  neighboring  forests.  These  forests,  abounding  in 
game,  commence  immediately,  as  it  were,  in  the  rear 
of  the  palace.  They  present  a  boundless  continuity  of 
crag,  mountain,  and  wooded  plain,  offering  every  variety 
of  ground  to  those  who  seek  the  pleasures  of  the  chase. 
The  sun  had  not  been  long  above  the  horizon  when  we 
sallied  forth  from  the  palace  gates,  and  from  the  smooth 
and  shaven  fields  of  the  royal  demesne,  plunged  at  once 
into  the  *  *  *  *  *  *  * 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  X 

It  was  a  moment  of  inexpressible  horror.  At  the 
same  instant,  our  eyes  caught  the  form  of  the  famished 
tiger,  just  in  the  act  to  spring  from  the  crag  upon  the 
unconscious  Queen.  But  before  we  had  time  to  alarm 
Zenobia — which  would  indeed  have  been  useless — a 


164  Z  E  N  0  B  1  A  . 

shaft  from  an  unerring  arm  arrested  the  monster  mid 
air,  whose  body  then  tumbled  heavily  at  the  feet  of 
Zenobia's  Arab.  The  horse,  rearing  with  affright,  had 
nearly  dashed  the  Queen  against  the  opposite  rocks,  but 
keeping  her  seat,  she  soon,  by  her  powerful  arm  and 
complete  horsemanship,  reduced  him  to  his  obedience, 
though  trembling  like  a  terrified  child  through  every 
part  of  his  body.  A  thrust  from  my  hunting  spear 
quickly  despatched  the  dying  beast.  We  now  gathered 
around  the  Queen. 

^^^^^  *  :*#:& 

Hardly  were  we  arrived  at  the  lawn  in  front  of  the 
palace,  when  a  cloud  of  dust  was  observed  to  rise  in 
the  direction  of  the  road  to  Palmyra,  as  if  caused  by  a 
body  of  horse  in  rapid  movement.  *  What  may  this 
mean?'  said  Zenobia:  'orders  were  strict,  that  our 
brief  retirement  should  not  be  disturbed.  This  indi 
cates  an  errand  of  some  urgency.' 

'  Some  embassy  from  abroad,  perhaps,'  said  Julia, 
'  that  cannot  brook  delay.  It  may  be  from  your  great 
brother  at  Rome.' 

While  we,  in  a  sportive  humor,  indulged  in  various 
conjectures,  an  official  of  the  palace  announced  the 
approach  of  a  Roman  herald,  *  who  craved  permission 
to  address  the  Queen  of  Palmyra.'  He  was  ordered 
to  advance. 

In  a  few  moments,  upon  a  horse  covered  with  dust 
and  foam;  appeared  the  Roman  herald.  Without  one 
moment's  hesitancy,  he  saw  in  Zenobia  the  Queen,  and 
taking  off  his  helmet,  said,  '  that  Caius  Petronius,  and 
Cornelius  Varro,  ambassadors  of  Aurelian,  were  in 
waiting  at  the  outer  gates  of  the  palace,  and  asked  a 


ZENOBIA.  165 

brief  audience  of  the  Queen  of  Palmyra,  upon  affairs 
of  deepest  interest,  both  to  Zenobia  and  the  Emperor.' 

'  It  is  not  our  custom,'  said  Zenobia  in  reply,  '  when 
seeking  repose,  as  now,  from  the  cares  of  state,  to  allow 
aught  to  break  it.  But  we  will  not  be  selfish  nor 
churlish.  Bid  the  servants  of  your  Emperor  draw 
near,  and  we  will  hear  them.' 

I  was  not  unwilling  that  the  messengers  of  Aurelian 
should  see  Zenobia  just  as  she  was  now.  Sitting  upon 
her  noble  Arabian,  and  leaning  upon  her  hunting  spear, 
her  countenance  glowing  with  a  higher  beauty  than 
ever  before,  as  it  seemed  to  me — her  head  surmounted 
with  a  Parthian  hunting-cap,  from  which  drooped  a 
single  ostrich  feather,  springing  from  a  diamond  worth 
a  nation's  rental,  her  costume  also  Parthian,  and  re 
vealing  in  the  most  perfect  manner  the  just  proportions 
of  her  form — I  thought  I  had  never  seen  even  her, 
when  she  so  filled  and  satisfied  the  eye  and  the  mind 
— and,  for  that  moment,  I  was  almost  a  traitor  to  Au 
relian.  Had  Julia  filled  her  seat,  I  should  have  been 
quite  so.  As  it  was,  I  could  worship  her  who  sat  her 
steed  with  no  less  grace,  upon  the  left  of  the  Queen, 
without  being  guilty  of  that  crime.  On  Zenobia's 
right  were  Longinus  and  Zabdas,  Gracchus,  and  the 
other  noblemen  of  Palmyra.  I  and  Fausta  were  near 
Julia.  In  this  manner,  just  as  we  had  come  in  from 
the  chase,  did  we  await  the  ambassadors  of  Aurelian. 

Announced  by  trumpets,  and  followed  by  their  train, 
they  soon  wheeled  into  the  lawn,  and  advanced  toward 
the  Queen. 

*  Caius  Petronius  and  Cornelius  Varro,'  said  Zeno 
bia,  first  addressing  the  ambassadors,  and  moving 
VOL.  15 


166  Z  E  N  0  B  1  A  . 

toward  them  a  few  paces,  { we  bid  you  heartily  wel 
come  to  Palmyra.  If  we  receive  you  thus  without 
form,  you  must  take  the  blame  partly  to  yourselves, 
who  have  sought  us  with  such  haste.  We  put  by  the 
customary  observances,  that  we  may  cause  you  no 
delay.  These  whom  you  see  are  all  friends  or  coun 
sellors.  Speak  your  errand  without  restraint.' 

'  We  come,'  replied  Petronius,  '  as  you  may  surmise, 
great  Queen,  upon  no  pleasing  errand.  Yet  we  can 
not  but  persuade  ourselves,  that  the  Queen  of  Palmyra 
will  listen  to  the  proposals  of  Aurelian,  and  preserve 
the  good  understanding  which  has  lasted  so  long  be 
tween  the  West  and  the  East.  There  have  been 
brought  already  to  your  ears,  if  I  have  been  rightly 
informed,  rumors  of  dissatisfaction  on  the  part  of  our 
Emperor,  with  the  affairs  of  the  East,  and  of  plans  of 
an  eastern  expedition.  It  is  my  business  now  to  say, 
that  these  rumors  have  been  well  founded.  I  am  fur 
ther  to  say,  that  the  object  at  which  Aurelian  has 
aimed,  in  the  preparations  he  has  made,  is  not  Persia, 
but  Palmyra.' 

*  He  does  us  too  much  honor,'  said  Zenobia,  her 
color  rising,  and  her  eye  kindling ;  '  and  what,  may  I 
ask,  are  specifically  his  demands,  and  the  price  of 
peace  ? ' 

{  For  a  long  series  of  years,'  replied  the  ambassador, 
*  the  wealth  of  Egypt  and  the  East,  as  you  are  aware, 
flowed  into  the  Roman  treasury.  That  stream  has 
been  diverted  to  Palmyra.  Egypt,  and  Syria,  and 
Bithynia,  and  Mesopotamia,  were  dependants  upon 
Rome,  and  Roman  provinces.  It  is  needless  to  say 
what  they  now  are.  The  Queen  of  Palmyra  was  once 


Z  E  N  0  B  I A  .  167 

but  the  Queen  of  Palmyra;  she  is  now  Queen  of 
Egypt  and  of  the  East — Augusta  of  the  Roman  empire 
— her  sons  styled  and  arrayed  as  Caesars.  By  what 
ever  consent  of  former  emperors  these  honors  have 
been  won  or  permitted,  it  is  not,  we  are  required  to 
say,  with  the  consent  of  Aurelian.  By  whatever  service 
in  behalf  of  Rome  they  may,  in  the  judgment  of  some, 
be  thought  to  be  deserved,  in  the  judgment  of  Aurelian 
the  reward  exceeds  greatly  the  value  of  the  service 
rendered.  But  while  we  would  not  be  deemed  insen 
sible  to  those  services,  and  while  he  honors  the  great 
ness  and  the  genius  of  Zenobia,  he  would,  he  conceives, 
be  unfaithful  to  the  interests  of  those  who  have  raised 
him  to  his  high  office,  if  he  did  not  require  that  in  the 
East,  as  in  the  West,  the  Roman  empire  should  again 
be  restored  to  the  limits  which  bounded  it  in  the 
reigns  of  the  virtuous  Antonines.  This  he  holds 
essential  to  his  own  honor,  and  the  glory  of  the  Ro 
man  world.' 

'  You  have  delivered  yourself,  Caius  Petronius,' 
replied  the  Queen,  in  a  calm  and  firm  voice,  '  as  it 
became  a  Roman  to  do,  with  plainness,  and  as  I  must 
believe,  without  reserve.  So  far  I  honor  you.  Now 
hear  me,  and  as  you  hear,  so  report  to  him  who  sent 
you.  Tell  Aurelian  that  what  I  am,  I  have  made 
myself;  that  the  empire  which  hails  me  Queen  has 
been  moulded  into  what  it  is  by  Odenatus  and  Zeno 
bia  ;  it  is  no  gift,  but  an  inheritance — a  conquest  and 
a  possession  ;  it  is  held,  not  by  favor,  but  by  right  of 
birth  and  power ;  and  that  when  he  will  give  away 
possessions  or  provinces  which  he  claims  as  his  or 
Rome's,  for  the  asking,  I  will  give  away  Egypt  and 


; 
I) 


168  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

the  Mediterranean  coast.  Tell  him  that  as  I  have 
lived  a  queen,  so,  the  gods  helping,  I  will  die  a  queen, 
—  that  the  last  moment  of  my  reign  and  my  life  shall 
be  the  same.  If  he  is  ambitious,  let  him  be  told  that 
I  am  ambitious  too  —  ambitious  of  wider  and  yet  wider 
empire  —  of  an  unsullied  fame,  and  of  my  people's  love. 
Tell  him  I  do  not  speak  of  gratitude  on  the  part  of 
Rome,  but  that  posterity  will  say,  that  the  Power 
which  stood  between  Rome  and  Persia,  and  saved  the 
empire  in  the  East,  which  avenged  the  death  of  Vale 
rian,  and  twice  pursued  the  king  of  kings  as  far  as  the 
gates  of  Ctesiphon,  deserved  some  fairer  acknowledg 
ment  than  the  message  you  now  bring,  at  the  hands 
of  a  Roman  emperor.' 

*  Let  the  Queen,'   quickly  rejoined  Petronius,  but 
evidently  moved  by  what  he  had  heard,  '  let  the  Queen 
fully  take  me.     Aurelian  purposes  not  to  invade  the 
fair  region  where  I  now  am,  and  where  my  eyes  are 
rejoiced  by  this  goodly  show  of  city,  plain  and  country. 
He  hails  you  Queen  of  Palmyra  !     He  does  but  ask 
again  those  appendages  of  your  greatness,  which  have 
been  torn  from  Rome,  and  were  once  members  of  her 
body.' 

'  Your  emperor  is  gracious  indeed  !  '  replied  the 
Queen,  smiling  ;  '  if  he  may  hew  off  my  limbs,  he  will 
spare  the  trunk  !  —  and  what  were  the  trunk  without 
the  limbs  ?  ' 

*  And  is  this,'  said  Petronius,  his  voice  significant  of 
inward  grief,  *  that  which  I  must  carry  back  to  Rome  ? 
Is  there  no  hope  of  a  better  adjustment  ?' 

'  Will  not  the  Queen  of  Palmyra  delay  for  a  few 
days  her  final  answer  ?  '  added  Varro  :  '  I  see,  happily, 
in  her  train,  a  noble  Roman,  from  whom,  as  well  as 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  169 

from  us,  she  may  obtain  all  needed  knowledge  of  both 
the  character  and  purposes  of  Aurelian.  We  are  at 
liberty  to  wait  her  pleasure.' 

'  You  have  our  thanks,  Romans,  for  your  courtesy, 
and  we  accept  your  offer ;  although  in  what  I  have 
said,  I  think  I  have  spoken  the  sense  of  my  people.' 

'  You  have  indeed,  great  Queen,'  interrupted  Zabdas 
with  energy. 

*  Yet  I   owe  it  to  my  trusty  counsellor,  the  great 
Longinus,'  continued  the  Queen,  '  and  who  now  thinks 
not  with  me,  to  look  farther  into  the  reasons — which, 
because  they  are  his,  must  be  strong  ones — by  which 
he  supports  an  opposite  judgment.' 

'  Those  reasons  have  now,'  said  the  Greek,  *  lost 
much  or  all  of  their  force,' — Zabdas"  smiled  triumph 
antly — '  yet  still  I  would  advocate  delay.' 

'  Let  it  be  so  then,'  said  the  Queen  ;  '  and  in  the 
meanwhile,  let  the  ambassadors  of  Aurelian  not  refuse 
the  hospitalities  of  the  Eastern  Queen.  Our  palace  is 
yours,  while  it  shall  please  you  to  remain.' 

*  For  the  night  and  the  morning,  we  accept  your 
offers ;    then,  as  strangers   in  this  region,  we  would 
return  to  the  city,  to  see  better  than  we  have  yet  done 
the  objects  which  it  presents.     It  seemed  to  us,  on  a 
hasty  glance,  surrounded  by  its  luxuriant  plains,  like 
the  habitation  of  gods.     We  would  dwell  there  a  space.' 

'  It  shall  be  as  you  will.  Let  me  now  conduct  you 
to  the  palace.' 

So  saying,  Zenobia,  putting  spurs  to  her  horse,  led 

the  way  to  the  palace,  followed  by  a  long  train  of 

Romans  and  Palmyrenes.     The  generous  hospitality 

of  the  tables  closed  the  day  and  wore  away  the  night. 

VOL.  i.  15* 


170  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 


LETTER     VII. 

You  will  be  glad  to  learn,  my  Curtius,  that  the  time 
las  now  come,  when  I  may  with  reason  look  for  news 
from  Isaac,  or  for  his  return.  It  was  his  agreement  to 
write  of  his  progress,  so  soon  as  he  should  arrive  at 
Ecbatana.  But  since  he  would  consume  but  a  very 
few  days  in  the  accomplishment  of  his  task,  if,  the 
gods  helping,  he  should  be  able  to  accomplish  it  at  all, 
I  may  see  him  even  before  I  hear  from  him,  and,  O 
day  thrice  happy !  my  brother  perhaps  with  him.  Yet 
am  I  not  without  solicitude,  even  though  Calpurnius 
should  return.  For  how  shall  I  meet  him? — as  a 
Persian,  or  a  Roman  ? — as  a  friend,  or  an  enemy  ? 
As  a  brother,  I  can  never  cease  to  love  him ;  as  a 
public  enemy  of  Rome,  I  may  be  obliged  to  condemn 
him. 

You  have  indeed  gratified  me  by  what  you  have 
said  concerning  the  public  works  in  which  the  emperor 
is  now  engaged.  .Would  that  the  erection  of  temples 
and  palaces  might  draw  away  his  thoughts  from  the 
East.  The  new  wall,  of  so  much  wider  sweep,  with 
which  he  is  now  enclosing  the  city,  is  well  worthy  the 
greatness  of  his  genius.  Yet  do  we,  my  Curtius, 
perceive  in  this  rebuilding  and  strengthening  of  the 
walls  of  Rome,  no  indication  of  our  country's  decline? 
Were  Rome  vigorous  and  sound,  as  once,  in  her  limbs, 
what  were  the  need  of  this  new  defence  about  the 
heart?  It  is  to  me  a  confession  of  weakness,  rather 
than  any  evidence  of  greatness  and  strength.  Aurelian 


Z  E  N  0  B  x  A  .  171 

achieves  more  for  Rome  by  the  strictness  of  his  disci 
pline,  and  his  restoration  of  the  ancient  simplicity  and 
severity  among  the  troops,  than  he  could  by  a  triple 
wall  about  the  metropolis.  Rome  will  then  already 
have  fallen,  when  a  Gothic  army  shall  have  penetrated 
so  far  as  even  to  have  seen  her  gates.  The  walls  of 
Rome  are  her  living  and  moving  walls  of  flesh.  Her 
old  and  crumbling  ramparts  of  masonry,  upon  which 
we  have  so  often  climbed  in  sport,  rolling  down  into 
the  surrounding  ditch  huge  masses,  have  ever  been  to 
me,  when  I  have  thought  of  them,  pregnant  signs  of 
security  and  power. 

The  ambassadors,  Petronius  and  Varro,  early  on  the 
morning  succeeding  their  interview  with  the  Queen, 
departed  for  the  city.  They  were  soon  followed  by 
Zenobia  and  her  train  of  counsellors  and  attendants. 
It  had  been  before  agreed  that  the  princess,  Fausta, 
and  myself,  should  remain  longer  at  the  palace,  for  the 
purpose  of  visiting,  as  had  been  proposed,  the  aged 
Christian  hermit,  whose  retreat  is  among  the  fastnesses 
of  the  neighboring  mountains.  I  would  rather  have 
accompanied  the  Queen,  seeing  it  was  so  certain  that 
important  interviews  and  discussions  would  take  place, 
when  they  should  be  all  returned  once  more  to  the 
city.  I  suppose  this  was  expressed  in  my  countenance, 
for  the  Queen,  as  she  took  her  seat  in  the  chariot, 
turned  and  said  to  me  :  '  We  shall  soon  see  you  again 
in  the  city.  A  few  hours  in  the  mountains  will  be  all 
that  Julia  will  require  ;  and  sure  I  am  that  the  wisdom 
of  St.  Thomas  will  more  than  repay  you  for  what  you 
may  lose  in  Palmyra.  Our  topics  will  relate  but  to 
worldly  aggrandizement — yours  to  more  permanent 
interests.' 


172  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  , 

How  great  a  pity  that  the  love  of  glory  has  so  fas 
tened  upon  the  heart  of  this  wonderful  woman  ;  else 
might  she  live,  and  reign,  and  die  the  object  of  univer 
sal  idolatry.  But  set  as  her  heart  is  upon  conquest 
and  universal  empire  throughout  the  East,  and  of  such 
marvellous  power  to  subdue  every  intellect,  even  the 
strongest,  to  her  will,  I  can  see  nothing  before  her  but 
a  short  and  brilliant  career,  ending  in  ruin,  absolute 
and  complete.  Zenobia  has  not,  or  will  not  allow  it 
to  be  seen  that  she  has,  any  proper  conception  of  the 
power  of  Rome.  She  judges  of  Rome  by  the  feeble 
Valerian,  and  the  unskilful  Heraclianus,  and  by  their 
standard  measures  such  men  as  Aurelian,  and  Probus, 
and  Carus.  She  may  indeed  gain  a  single  battle,  for 
her  genius  is  vast,  and  her  troops  well  disciplined  and 
brave.  But  the  loss  of  a  battle  would  be  to  her  the 
loss  of  empire,  while  to  Rome  it  would  be  but  as  the 
sting  of  a  summer  insect.  Yet  this  she  does  not  or 
will  not  see.  To  triumph  over  Aurelian  is,  I  believe, 
the  vision  that  dazzles,  deludes,  and  will  destroy  her. 

No  sooner  had  the  Queen  and  her  train  departed, 
than,  mounting  our  horses,  we  took  our  way,  Julia, 
Fausta,  and  myself,  through  winding  valleys  and  over 
rugged  hills,  toward  the  hermit's  retreat.  Reaching 
the  base  of  what  seemed  an  almost  inaccessible  crag, 
we  found  it  necessary  to  leave  our  horses  in  the  care 
of  attendant  slaves,  and  pursue  the  remainder  of  the 
way  on  foot.  The  hill  which  we  now  had  to  ascend, 
was  thickly  grown  over  with  every  variety  of  tree  and 
bush,  with  here  and  there  a  mountain  stream  falling 
from  rock  to  rock,  and  forcing  its  way  to  the  valley  be 
low.  The  sultry  heat  of  the  day  compelled  us  frequently 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  173 

to  pause,  as  we  toiled  up  the  side  of  the  hill,  seating  our 
selves,  now  beneath  the  dark  shadows  of  a  branching 
cedar  or  the  long-lived  terebinth,  and  now  on  the 
mossy  banks  of  a  descending  brook.  The  mingled 
beauty  and  wildness  of  the  scene,  together  with  such 
companions,  soon  drove  the  Queen,  Rome,  and  Palmyra, 
from  my  thoughts.  I  could  not  but  wish  that  we  might 
lose  our  way  to  the  hermit's  cave,  that  by  such  means 
our  walk  might  be  prolonged. 

'Is  it,  I  wonder,'  said  Fausta, '  the  instruction  of  his 
religion  which  confines  this  Christian  saint  to  these 
distant  solitudes  ?  What  a  singular  faith  it  must  be 
which  should  drive  all  who  embrace  it  to  the  woods 
and  rocks  !  What  would  become  of  our  dear  Palmyra, 
were  it  to  be  changed  to  a  Christian  city?  The  same 
event,  I  suppose,  Julia,  would  change  it  to  a  desert.' 

'  I  do  not  think  Christianity  prescribes  this  mode  of 
life,  though  I  do  not  know  but  it  may  permit  it,'  replied 
the  princess.  '  But  of  this,  the  Hermit  will  inform 
us.  He  may  have  chosen  this  retreat  on  account  of 
his  extreme  age,  which  permits  him  no  longer  to  en 
gage  in  the  affairs  of  an  active  life.' 

'  I  trust  for  the  sake  of  Christianity  it  is  so,'  added 
Fausta;  '  for  I  cannot  conceive  of  a  true  religion  incul 
cating,  or  even  permitting  inactivity.  What  would 
become  of  the  world,  if  it  could  be  proved  that  the 
gods  required  us  to  pass  our  days  in  retired  contem« 
plation  ? ' 

'  Yet  it  cannot  be  denied,'  said  Julia,  *  that  th 
greatest  benefactors  of  mankind  have  been  those  wha 
have  in  solitude,  and  with  patient  labor,  pursued  truth 


174  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

till  they  have  discovered  it,  and  then  revealed  it  to  shed 
its  light  and  heat  upon  the  world.' 

'  For  my  part,'  replied  Fausta,  '  I  must  think  that 
they  who  have  sowed  and  reaped,  have  been  equal 
benefactors.  The  essential  truths  are  instinctive  and 
universal.  As  for  the  philosophers,  they  have,  with 
few  exceptions,  been  occupied  as  much  about  mere 
frivolities  as  any  Palmyrene  lady  at  her  toilet.  Still, 
I  do  not  deny  that  the  contemplative  race  is  a  useful 
one  in  its  way.  What  I  say  is,  that  a  religion  which 
enjoined  a  solitary  life  as  a  duty,  would  be  a  very 
mischievous  religion.  And  what  is  more,  any  such 
precept,  fairly  proved  upon  it,  would  annihilate  all  its 
claims  to  a  divine  origin.  For  certainly,  if  it  were 
made  a  religious  duty  for  one  man  to  turn  an  idle, 
contemplative  hermit,  it  would  be  equally  the  duty  of 
every  other,  and  then  the  arts  of  life  by  which  we 
subsist  would  be  forsaken.  Any  of  the  prevalent 
superstitions,  if  we  may  not  call  them  religions,  were 
better  than  this.' 

1 1  agree  with  you  entirely,'  said  Julia  ;  *  but  my 
acquaintance  with  the  Christian  writings  is  not  such 
as  to  enable  me  to  say  with  confidence  that  they  con 
tain  no  such  permission  or  injunction.  Indeed  some  of 
them  I  have  not  even  read,  and  much  I  do  not  fully 
understand.  But  as  I  have  seen  and  read  enough  to 
believe  firmly  that  Christianity  is  a  divine  religion,  my 
reason  teaches  me  that  it  contains  no  precept  such  as 
we  speak  of.' 

We  had  now,  in  the  course  of  our  walk,  reached 
what  we  found  to  be  a  broad  and  level  ledge,  about 
half  wav  to  the  summit  of  the  hill.  It  was  a  spot 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  175 

remarkable  for  a  sort  of  dark  and  solemn  beauty,  being 
set  with  huge  branching  trees,  whose  tops  were  woven 
into  a  roof,  through  which  only  here  and  there  the  rays 
of  the  fierce  sun  could  find  their  way.  The  turf  be 
neath,  unincumbered  with  any  smaller  growth  of  tree  or 
shrub,  was  sprinkled  with  flowers  that  love  the  shade. 
The  upper  limit  of  this  level  space  was  bounded  by 
precipitous  rocks,  up  which  ascent  seemed  difficult  or 
impossible,  and  the  lower  by  similar  ones,  to  descend 
which  seemed  equally  difficult  or  impossible. 

'  If  the  abode  of  the  Christian  is  hereabouts,'  we  said, 
'  it  seems  well  chosen  both  for  its  security  and  the  ex 
ceeding  beauty  of  the  various  objects  which  greet  the 
eye.' 

'  Soon  as  we  shall  have  passed  that  tumbling  rivulet,' 
said  Julia,  *  it  will  come  into  view.' 

Upon  a  rude  bridge  of  fallen  trunks  of  trees,  we 
passed  the  stream  as  it  crossed  our  path,  and  which 
then  shooting  over  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  was  lost 
among  the  rocks  and  woods  below.  A  cloud  of  light 
spray  fell  upon  us  as  we  stood  upon  the  bridge,  and 
imparted  a  most  refreshing  coolness. 

'  Where  you  see,'  said  Julia,  '  that  dark  entrance, 
beneath  yonder  low-browed  rock,  is  the  dwelling  of  the 
aged  Christian.' 

We  moved  on  with  slow  and  silent  steps,  our  spirits 
partaking  of  the  stillness  and  solitariness  of  the  place. 
We  reached  the  front  of  the  grotto,  without  disturbing 
the  meditations  of  the  venerable  man.  A  part  of  the 
rock  which  formed  his  dwelling  served  him  for  a  seat, 
and  another  part  projecting  after  the  manner  of  a  shelf, 
served  him  for  a  table,  upon  which  lay  unrolled  a  large 


176  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

volume.  Bending  over  the  book,  his  lean  and  shrivelled 
finger  pointing  to  the  words,  and  aiding  his  now  dim 
and  feeble  eye,  he  seemed  wholly  wrapped  in  the 
truths  he  was  contemplating,  and  heeded  not  our 
presence.  We  stood  still  for  a  moment,  unwilling  to 
break  a  repose  so  peaceful  and  profound.  At  length, 
raising  his  eyes  from  the  page,  they  caught  the  form 
and  face  of  the  princess,  who  stood  nearest  to  him.  A 
quick  and  benignant  smile  lighted  up  his  features  ;  and 
rising  slowly  to  his  full  height,  he  bade  her  welcome, 
with  sweet  and  tremulous  tones,  to  his  humble  roof. 

'  It  is  kind  in  you,'  said  he, '  so  soon  again  to  ascend 
these  rough  solitudes,  to  visit  a  now  unprofitable  old 
man ;  and  more  kind  still  to  bring  others  with  you. 
Voices  from  the  world  ring  a  sweet  music  in  my  ear — 
sweeter  than  any  sound  of  bird  or  stream.  Enter, 
friends,  if  it  please  you,  and  be  rested,  after  the  toil  of 
your  ascent.' 

'  I  bring  yo^  '•  jre,  father,'  said  Julia,  '  according  to 
my  sometime  promise,  my  friend  and  companion,  the 
daughter  of  Gracchus,  and  with  her  a  noble  Roman,  of 
the  house  of  Piso,  lately  come  hither  from  the  capital 
of  the  world.' 

'  They  are  very,  very  welcome,'  replied  the  saint ; 
'  your  presence  breaks  most  gratefully  the  monotony 
of  my  life.' 

'We  almost  doubted,'  said  I,  'venerable  Father, 
whether  it  would  please  you  to  find  beneath  your  roof 
those  who  receive  not  your  belief,  and  what  is  much 
more,  belong  to  a  faith  which  has  poured  upon  you  and 
yours  so  full  a  flood  of  suffering  and  reproach.  But 
your  countenance  assures  us  that  we  have  erred.' 


_ 

Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  177 

'  You  have,  indeed,'  replied  the  sage ;  '  as  a  Christian 
I  see  in  you  not  pagans  and  unbelievers,  not  followers 
of  Plato  and  Epicurus,  not  dwellers  in  Rome  or  Alex 
andria,  but  members  of  the  great  family  of  man,  and  as 
such  I  greet  you,  and  already  love  you.  The  design  of  j 
Christianity  is  to  unite  and  draw  together,  not  divide  and ' 
drive  asunder.  It  teaches  its  disciples,  indeed,  to  go  out' 
and  convert  the  world,  but  if  they  cannot  convert  it,  it' 
still  teaches  them  to  love  it.  My  days  and  my  strength 
have  been  spent  in  preaching  Christ  to  Jews  and  hea 
then,  and  many  of  those  who  have  heard  have  believed. 
But  more  have  not.  These  are  not  my  brethren  in  Christ, 
but  they  are  my  brethren  in  G  od,  and  I  love  them  as  his.' 

'These  are  noble  sentiments,'  said  Fausta.  ' Religion 
has,  in  almost  all  its  forms,  condemned  utterly  all  who 
have  not  received  it  in  the  form  in  which  it  has  been 
proposed.  Rome,  indeed,  used  to  be  mild  and  tolerant 
of  every  shape  which  the  religious  sentiment  assumed. 
But  since  the  appearance  of  Christianity  it  has  wholly 
changed  its  policy.  I  am  afraid  it  formerly  tolerated, 
only  because  it  saw  nothing  to  fear.  Fearing  Chris 
tianity,  it  seeks  to  destroy  it.  That  is  scarcely  generous 
of  you,  Lucius  ;  nor  very  wise  either — for  surely  truth 
can  neither  be  created  nor  suppressed  by  applications 
of  force.  Such  is  not  the  doctrine  of  Christianity,  if  I 
understand  you  right.' 

'  Lady,  most  certainly  not,'  he  replied.  '  Christianity 
is  offered  to  mankind,  not  forced  upon  them.  And  this 
supposes  in  them  the  power  and  the  right  to  sit  in 
judgment  upon  its  truth.  But  were  not  all  free  judg 
ment  destroyed,  and  all  worthy  reception  of  it  therefore, 
if  any  penal  consequences — greater  or  less,  of  one  kind 
VOL.  i.  16 


178  ZEN  OBI  A. 

or  another,  present  or  future — followed  upon  its  rejec 
tion  ?  Rome  has  done  wickedly,  in  her  aim  to  sup 
press  error  and  maintain  truth  by  force.  Is  Rome  a 
god  to  distinguish  with  certainty  the  one  from  the 
other?  But  alas!  Rome  is  not  alone  to  blame  in  this. 
Christians  themselves  are  guilty  of  the  same  folly  and 
crime.  They  interpret  differently  the  sayings  of  Christ 
— as  how  should  they  not  ? — and  the  party  which  is 
stronger  in  numbers  already  begins  to  oppress,  with 
hard  usage  and  language,  the  weaker  party,  which 
presumes  to  entertain  its  own  opinions.  The  Christians 
of  Alexandria  and  Rome,  fond  of  the  ancient  philosophy, 
and  desirous  to  recommend  the  doctrines  of  Christ,  by 
showing  their  near  accordance  with  it,  have,  as  many 
think,  greatly  adulterated  the  gospel,  by  mixing  up 
with  its  truths  the  fantastic  dreams  of  Plato.  Others, 
among  whom  is  our  Paul  of  Antioch,  deeming  this 
injurious  and  erroneous,  aim  to  restore  the  Christian 
doctrine  to  the  simplicity  that  belongs  to  it  in  the  origi 
nal  records,  and  which,  for  the  most  part,  it  still  retains 
among  the  common  people.  But  this  is  not  willingly 
allowed.  On  the  contrary,  because  Paul  cannot  see 
with  their  eyes  and  judge  with  their  judgment,  he  is 
to  be  driven  from  his  bishopric.  Thus  do  the  Chris 
tians  imitate  in  their  treatment  of  each  other  their 
common  enemy,  the  Roman.  They  seem  already 
ashamed  of  the  gentleness  of  Christ,  who  would  have 
every  mind  left  in  its  own  freedom  to  believe  as  its 
own  powers  enable  it  to  believe.  Our  good  Zenobia, 
though  no  Christian,  is  yet  in  this  respect  the  truest 
Christian.  All  within  her  realm,  thought  is  free  as 
the  air  that  plays  among  these  leaves.' 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  179 

*  But  is  it  not,  said  Fausta,  '  a  mark  of  imperfection 
in  your  religion,  that  it  cannot  control  and  bind  to  a 
perfect  life  its  disciples  ?  Methinks  a  divine  religion 
should  manifest  its  divinity  in  the  superior  goodness 
which  it  forms.' 

'  Is  not  that  just  ?'  I  added. 

'  A  divine  religion,'  he  replied,  '  may  indeed  be 
expected  to  show  its  heaven-derived  power  in  creating 
a  higher  virtue  than  human  systems.  And  this,  I  am 
sure,  Christianity  does.  I  may  safely  challenge  the 
world  to  show  in  human  form  the  perfection  which 
dwelt  in  Jesus,  the  founder  of  this  religion.  Yet  his 
character  was  formed  by  the  power  of  his  own  doctrines. 
Among  his  followers,  if  there  have  been  none  so  perfect 
as  he,  there  have  been  multitudes  who  have  approached 
him,  and  have  exhibited  a  virtue  which  was  once 
thought  to  belong  only  to  philosophers.  The  world  has 
been  accustomed  to  celebrate,  with  almost  divine  honors, 
Socrates,  and  chiefly  because  of  the  greatness  of  mind 
displayed  by  him  when  condemned  to  drink  the  cup  of 
poison.  I  can  tell  you  of  thousands  among  the  Chris 
tians,  among  common  and  unlearned  Christians,  who 
have  met  death,  in  forms  many  times  more  horrible 
than  that  in  which  the  Greek  encountered  it,  with 
equal  calmness  and  serenity.  This  they  have  been 
enabled  to  do  simply  through  the  divine  force  of  a  few 
great  truths,  which  they  have  implicitly  believed.  Be 
side  this,  consider  the  many  usages  of  the  world, 
which,  while  others  hold  them  innocent,  the  Christians 
condemn  them,  and  abstain  from  them.  It  is  not  to  be 
denied  that  they  are  the  reformers  of  the  age.  They 
are  busy,  sometimes  with  an  indiscreet  and  violent 


180  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

zeal,  in  new  modeling  both  the  opinions  and  practices 
of  the  world.  But  what  then  ?  Are  they  to  be  con 
demned  if  a  single  fault  may  be  charged  upon  them  ? 
Must  they  be  perfect,  because  their  religion  is  divine  ? 
This  might  be  so,  if  it  were  of  the  nature  of  religion  to 
operate  with  an  irresistible  influence  upon  the  mind, 
producing  an  involuntary  and  forced  obedience.  But 
in  such  an  obedience  there  would  be  nothing  like  what 
we  mean  by  virtue,  but  something  quite  inferior  in  the 
comparison.  A  religion,  for  the  reason  that  it  is  divine, 
will,  with  the  more  certainty,  make  its  appeals  to  a  free 
nature.  It  will  explain  the  nature,  and  reveal  the  con 
sequences  of  virtue  and  vice,  but  will  leave  the  mind 
free  to  choose  the  one  or  the  other,  Christianity 
teaches,  that  in  goodness,  and  faithfulness  to  the  sense 
of  duty,  lies  the  chief  good  ;  in  these  there  is  a  heaven 
of  reward,  not  only  now  and  on  earth,  but  throughout  an 
existence  truly  immortal.  Is  it  not  most  evident  that, 
with  whatever  authority  this  religion  may  propound  its 
doctrines,  men  not  being  in  a  single  power  coerced, 
will  not,  though  they  may  receive  them,  yield  to  them 
an  equal  observance  ?  Hence,  even  among  Christians, 
there  must  be,  perhaps  ever,  much  imperfection.' 

'  Does  not  this  appear  to  you,  Fausta  and  Piso,'  said 

Julia,  as  the  old  man  paused,  'just  and  reasonable? 

Can  it  be  an  objection  to  this  faith,  that  its  disciples 

partake    of   the   common   weaknesses   of  humanity  ? 

Otherwise,  religion  would  be  a  principle  designed,  not 

so  much  to  improve  and  exalt  our  nature,  as  to  alter  it.' 

'  We  allow  it  readily  to  be  both  just  and  reasonable.1 

4  But  it  seemed  to  us,'  said  Fausta, '  as  we  ascended 

the  mountain,  and  were  conversing,  to  be  with  cer- 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  181 

tainty  a  proof  of  imperfection  in  your  religion — pardon 
my  freedom,  we  are  come  as  learners,  and  they  who 
would  learn,  must,  without  restraint,  express  their 
doubts — that  it  recommended  or  permitted  a  recluse, 
and  inactive  life.  Have  your  days,  Father,  been  passed 
in  this  deep  solitude  ?  and  has  your  religion  demanded 
it?' 

*  Your  freedom  pleases  me,'  replied  the  venerable 
man  ;  '  and  I  wonder  not  at  the  question  you  propose. 
Not  my  religion,  lady,  but  an  enfeebled  and  decrepit 
frame  chains  me  to  this  solitude.  I  have  now  out 
lasted  a  century,  and  my  powers  are  wasted  and  gone. 
I  can  do  little  more  than  sit  and  ponder  the  truths  of 
this  life-giving  book,  and  anticipate  the  renewed  activity 
of  that  immortal  being  which  it  promises.  The  Chris 
tian  converts,  who  dwell  beneath  those  roofs  which  you 
see  gleaming  in  the  valley  below,  supply  the  few  wants 
which  I  have.  When  their  labor  is  done  for  the  day, 
they  sometimes  come  up,  bringing  with  them  baskets 
of  fresh  or  dried  fruits,  which  serve  me,  together  with 
the  few  roots  and  berries  which  I  myself  can  gather  as 
I  walk  this  level  space,  for  my  food.  My  thirst  I 
quench  at  the  brook  which  you  have  just  passed.  Upon 
this  simple  but  wholesome  nutriment,  and  breathing 
this  dry  mountain  air,  my  days  may  yet  be  prolonged 
through  many  years.  But  I  do  not  covet  them,  since 
nature  makes  me  a  prisoner.  But  I  submit,  because 
my  faith  teaches  me  to  receive  patiently  whatever  the 
Supreme  Ruler  appoints.  It  is  not  my  religion  that 
prescribes  this  manner  of  life,  or  permits  it,  but  as  the 
last  refuge  of  an  imbecility  like  mine.  Christianity 
denounces  selfishness,  in  all  its  forms,  and  what  form 
VOL.  i.  16* 


182  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

of  selfishness  more  gross  than  to  spend  the  best  of  one's 
days  in  solitary  musing  and  prayer,  all  to  secure  one's 
own  salvation  ?  The  founder  of  this  religion  led  an 
active  and  laborious  life.  He  did  good  not  only  to 
himself  by  prayer  and  meditation  :  he  went  about 
doing  it  to  others — seeking  out  objects  whom  he  might 
benefit  and  bless.  His  life  was  one  of  active  benevo 
lence  ;  and  the  record  of  that  life  is  the  religious  code 
of  his  followers.  No  condemnation  could  be  more 
severe  than  that  which  the  Prophet  of  Nazareth  would 
pronounce  upon  such  a  life  as  mine  now  is,  were  it  a 
chosen,  voluntary  one.  But  it  never  has  been  volun 
tary.  Till  age  dried  up  the  sources  of  my  strength,  I 
toiled  night  and  day  in  all  countries  and  climates,  in 
the  face~\)f  every  danger,  in  the  service  of  mankind. 
For  it  is  by  serving  others,  that  the  law  of  Christ  is 
fulfilled.  Disinterested  labor  for  others  constituted  the 
greatness  of  Jesus  Christ.  This  constitutes  true  great 
ness  in  his  followers.  I  perceive  that  what  I  say  falls 
upon  your  ear  as  a  new  and  strange  doctrine.  But  it 
is  the  doctrine  of  Christianity.  It  utterly  condemns, 
therefore,  a  life  of  solitary  devotion.  It  is  a  mischiev 
ous  influence  which  is  now  spreading  outward  from  the 
example  of  that  Paul,  who  suffered  so  much  under  the 
persecution  of  the  Emperor  Decius,  and  who  then, 
flying  to  the  solitudes  of  the  Egyptian  Thebais,  has 
there,  in  the  vigor  of  his  days,  buried  himself  in  a  cave 
of  the  earth,  that  he  may  serve  God  by  forsaking  man. 
His  maxim  seems  to  be,  "  The  farther  from  man,  the 
nearer  to  God" — the  reverse  of  the  Christian  maxim, 
v  The  nearer  man,  the  nearer  God."  A  disciple  of 
Jesus  has  truly  said  :  "  He  who  loves  not  his  brother 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  183 

whom  he  hath  seen,  how  shall  he  love  God,  whom  he 
hath  not  seen  ?"  This,  it  may  be,  Roman,  is  the  first 
sentence  you  have  ever  heard  from  the  Christian  books.' 
'I  am  obliged  to  confess  that  it  is,'  I  replied.  'I 
have  heretofore  lived  in  an  easy  indifference  toward 
all  religions.  The  popular  religion  of  my  country  I 
early  learned  to  despise.  I  have  perused  the  philoso 
phers,  and  examined  their  systems,  from  Pythagoras  to 
Seneca,  and  am  now,  what  I  have  long  been,  a  disciple 
of  none  but  Pyrrho.  My  researches  have  taught  me 
only  how  the  more  ingeniously  to  doubt.  Wearied  at 
length  with  a  vain  inquiry  after  truth  that  should  satisfy 
and  fill  me,  I  suddenly  abandoned  the  pursuit,  with  the 
resolve  never  to  resume  it.  I  was  not  even  tempted  to 
depart  from  this  resolution  when  Christianity  offered 
itself  to  my  notice  ;  for  I  confounded  it  with  Judaism, 
and  for  that,  as  a  Roman,  I  entertained  too  profound  a 
contempt  to  bestow  upon  it  a  single  thought.  I  must 
acknowledge  that  the  reports  which  I  heard,  and  which 
I  sometimes  read,  of  the  marvellous  constancy  and 
serenity  of  the  Christians,  under  accumulated  suffer 
ings  and  wrongs,  interested  my  feelings  in  their  behalf; 
and  the  thought  often  arose,  "  Must  there  not  be  truth 
to  support  such  heroism  ?  "  But  the  world  went  on  its 
way,  and  I  with  it,  and  the  Christians  were  forgotten. 
To  a  Christian,  on  my  voyage  across  the  Mediterra 
nean,  I  owe  much,  for  my  first  knowledge  of  Chris 
tianity.  To  the  Princess  Julia  I  owe  a  larger  debt  still. 
And  now  from  your  lips,  long  accustomed  to  declare 
its  truths,  I  have  heard  what  makes  me  truly  desirous 
to  hear  the  whole  of  that  which,  in  the  glimpses 
I  have  been  able  to  obtain,  has  afforded  so  real  a  satis 
faction.' 


w 

184  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

1  Were  you  to  study  the  Christian  books,'  said  the 
recluse,  '  you  would  be  chiefly  struck  perhaps  with  the 
plainness  and  simplicity  of  the  doctrines  there  unfolded. 
You  would  say  that  much  which  you  found  there, 
relating  to  the  right  conduct  of  life,  you  had  already 
found  scattered  through  the  books  of  the  Greek  and 
Roman  moralists.  You  would  be  startled  by  no  strange 
or  appalling  truth.  You  would  turn  over  their  leaves 
in  vain  in  search  of  such  dark  and  puzzling  ingenuities 
as  try  the  wits  of  those  who  resort  to  the  pages  of  the 
Timaeus.  A  child  can  understand  the  essential  truths 
of  Christ.  And  the  value  of  Christianity  consists  not 
in  this,  that  it  puts  forth  a  new,  ingenious,  and  intricate 
system  of  philosophy,  but  that  it  adds  to  recognised 
and  familiar  truths  divine  authority.  Some  things  are 
indeed  new ;  and  much  is  new,  if  that  may  be  called 
so  which,  having  been  neglected  as  insignificant  by 
other  teachers,  has  by  Christ  been  singled  out  and 
announced  as  primal  and  essential.  But  the  peculiarity 
of  Christianity  lies  in  this,  that  its  voice,  whether  heard 
in  republishing  an  old  and  familiar  doctrine,  or  an 
nouncing  a  new  one,  is  not  the  voice  of  man,  but  of 
God.  It  is  a  revelation.  It  is  a  word  from  the  invisi 
ble,  unapproachable  Spirit  of  the  universe.  For  this 
Socrates  would  have  been  willing  to  renounce  all  his 
wisdom.  Is  it  not  this  which  we  need  ?  We  can 
theorize  and  conjecture  without  end,  but  cannot  relieve 
ourselves  of  our  doubts.  They  will  assail  every  work 
of  man.  We  wish  to  repose  in  a  divine  assurance. 
This  we  have  in  Christianity.  It  is  a  message  from 
God.  It  puts  an  end  to  doubt  and  conjecture.  Wise 
men  of  all  ages  have  agreed  in  the  belief  of  One  God; 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  185 

but  not  being  able  to  demonstrate  his  being  and  his 
unity,  they  have  had  no  power  to  change  the  popular 
belief,  which  has  ever  tended  to  polytheism  and  idolatry. 
Christianity  teaches  this  truth  with  the  authority  of 
God  himself,  and  already  has  it  become  the  faith  of 
millions.  Philosophers  have  long  ago  taught  that  the 
only  safe  and  happy  life  is  a  virtuous  life.  Christianity 
repeats  this  great  truth,  and  adds,  that  it  is  such  a  life 
alone  that  conducts  to  immortality.  Philosophers  have 
themselves  believed  in  the  doctrine  of  a  future  exist 
ence,  and  have  died  hoping  to  live  again  ;  and  it  can 
not  be  denied  that  mankind  generally  have  entertained 
an  obscure  expectation  of  a  renewed  being  after  death. 
The  advantage  of  Christianity  consists  in  this,  that  it 
assures  us  of  the  reality  of  a  future  life,  on  the  word 
and  authority  of  God  himself.  Jesus  Christ  taught, 
that  all  men  come  forth  from  death,  wearing  a  new 
spiritual  body,  and  thereafter  never  die  ;  and  to  confirm 
his  teaching,  he  himself  being  slain,  rose  from  the 
dead,  and  showed  himself  to  his  followers  alive,  and 
while  they  were  yet  looking  upon  him,  ascended  to 
some  other  and  higher  world.  Surely,  Roman,  though 
Christianity  announced  nothing  more  than  these  great 
truths,  yet  seeing  it  puts  them  forth  in  the  name,  and 
with  the  authority  of  God,  it  is  a  vast  accession  to  our 
knowledge.' 

'  Indeed  it  cannot  be  denied,'  I  answered.  '  It  would 
be  a  great  happiness  too  to  feel  such  an  assurance,  as 
he  must  who  believes  in  your  religion,  of  another  life. 
Death  would  then  lose  every  terror.  We  could  ap 
proach  the  close  of  life  as  calmly  and  cheerfully,  some 
times  as  gladly,  as  we  now  do  the  close  of  a  day  of 


186  2  E  ft  0  B  I  A  . 

weary  travel  or  toil.  It  would  be  but  to  lie  down  and 
rest,  and  sleep,  and  rise  again  refreshed  by  the  slumber 
for  the  labors  and  enjoyments  of  a  life  which  should 
then  be  without  termination,  and  yet  unattended  by 
fatigue.  I  can  think  of  no  greater  felicity  than  to  be 
able  to  perceive  the  truth  of  such  a  religion  as  yours.' 

'  This  religion  of  the  Christians,'  said  Fausta, '  seems 
to  be  full  of  reasonable  and  desirable  truth — if  it  all  be 
truth.  But  how  is  this  great  point  to  be  determined  ? 
How  are  we  to  know  whether  the  founder  of  this 
religion  was  in  truth  a  person  holding  communication 
with  God  ?  The  mind  will  necessarily  demand  a  large 
amount  of  evidence,  before  it  can  believe  so  extraor 
dinary  a  thing.  I  greatly  fear,  Julia,  lest  I  may  never 
be  a  Christian.  What  is  the  evidence,  Father,  with 
which  you  trust  to  convince  the  mind  of  an  inquirer  ? 
It  must  possess  potency,  for  all  the  world  seems  flocking 
to  the  standard  of  Christ.' 

*  I  think,  indeed,'  replied  the  saint,  '  that  it  possesses 
potency.  I  believe  its  power  to  be  irresistible.  But 
do  you  ask  in  sincerity,  daughter  of  Gracchus,  what  to 
do  in  order  to  believe  in  Christianity  ?' 

'  I  do,  indeed,'  answered  Fausta.  '  But  know  that 
my  mind  is  one  not  easy  of  belief.' 

'  Christianity,  lady,  asks  no  forced  or  faint  assent. 
It  appeals  to  human  reason,  and  it  blames  not  the  con 
scientious  doubter  or  denier.  When  it  requires  you  to 
examine,  and  constitutes  you  judge,  it  condemns  no 
honest  decision.  The  mind  that  approaches  Christianity 
must  be  free,  and  ought  to  be  fearless.  Hesitate  not  to 
reject  that  which  evidence  does  not  substantiate.  But 
examine  and  weigh  well  the  testimony.  If  then  you 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  187 

would  know  whether  Christianity  be  true,  it  is  first  of 
all  needful  that  you  read  and  ponder  the  Christian 
books.  These  books  prove  themselves.  The  religion 
of  Christ  is  felt  to  be  true,  as  you  read  the  writings  in 
which  it  is  recorded.  Just  as  the  works  of  nature 
prove  to  the  contemplative  mind  the  being  of  a  God,  so 
do  the  books  of  the  Christians  prove  the  truth  of  their 
religion.  As  you  read  them,  as  your  mind  embraces 
the  teaching,  and  above  all,  the  character  of  Christ,  you 
involuntarily  exclaim  :  "  This  must  be  true  ;  the  sun 
in  the  heavens  does  not  more  clearly  point  to  a  divine 
author,  than  do  the  contents  of  these  books."  You 
find  them  utterly  unlike  any  other  books — differing 
from  them  just  in  the  same  infinite  and  essential  way 
that  the  works  of  God  differ  from  the  works  of  man.' 

He  paused,  and  we  were  for  a  few  moments  silent. 
At  length  Fausta  said  :  '  This  is  all  very  new  and 
strange,  Father !  Why,  Julia,  have  you  never  urged 
me  to  read  these  books  ? ' 

' The  princess,'  resumed  the  hermit,  'has  done  wisely 
to  leave  you  to  the  promptings  of  your  own  mind.  The 
more  every  thing  in  religion  is  voluntary  and  free,  the 
more  worth  attaches  to  it.  Christ  would  not  that  any 
should  be  driven  or  urged  to  him  ;  but  that  they  should 
come.  Nevertheless  the  way  must  be  pointed  out.  I 
have  now  shown  you  one  way.  Let  rne  tell  you  of 
another.  The  Christian  books  bear  the  names  of  the 
persons  who  profess  to  have  written  them,  and  who 
declare  themselves  to  have  lived  and  to  have  recorded 
events  which  happened  in  the  province  of  Judea,  in  the 
reigns  of  Tiberius  and  Nero.  Now  it  is  by  no  means 
a  difficult  matter  for  a  person,  desirous  to  arrive  at  the 


188  ZENOBIA. 

truth,  to  institute  such  inquiries,  as  shall  fully  convince 
him  that  such  persons  lived  then  and  there,  and  per 
formed  the  actions  ascribed  to  them.  We  are  not  so 
far  removed  from  those  times,  but  that  by  resorting  to 
the  places  where  the  events  of  the  Christian  history 
took  place,  we  can  readily  satisfy  ourselves  of  their 
truth — if  they  be  true — by  inquiring  of  the  descend 
ants  of  those  who  were  concerned  in  the  very  transac 
tions  recorded.  This  thousands  and  thousands  have 
done,  and  they  believe  in  the  events — strange  as  they 
are — of  the  Christian  history  as  implicitly  as  they  do 
in  the  events  of  the  Roman  history,  for  the  same  period 
of  time.  Listen,  my  children,  while  I  rehearse  my 
own  experience  as  a  believer  in  Christ. 

'  My  father,  Cyprian,  a  native  of  Syria,  attained,  as 
I  have  attained,  to  an  extreme  old  age.  At  the  age  of 
five  score  years  and  ten,  he  died  within  the  walls  of 
this  quiet  dwelling  of  nature's  own  hewing,  and  there 
at  the  root  of  that  ancient  cedar  his  bones  repose.  He 
was  for  twenty  years  a  contemporary  of  St.  John  the 
evangelist — of  that  John,  who  was  one  of  the  com 
panions  of  Jesus  the  founder  of  Christianity,  and  who 
ere  he  died  wrote  a  history  of  Jesus,  of  his  acts  and 
doctrine.  From  the  very  lips  of  this  holy  man,  did  the 
youthful  but  truth-loving  and  truth-seeking  Cyprian 
receive  his  knowledge  of  Christianity.  He  sat  and 
listened  while  the  aged  apostle — the  past  rising  before 
him  with- the  distinctness  of  a  picture — told  of  Jesus  ; 
of  the  mild  majesty  of  his  presence  ;  of  the  power  and 
sweetness  of  his  discourse  ;  of  the  love  he  bore  toward 
all  that  lived ;  of  his  countenance  radiant  with  joy 
when,  in  using  the  miraculous  power  intrusted  to  show 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  189 

nis  descent  from  God,  he  gave  health  to  the  pining 
sick,  and  restored  the  dying  and  the  dead  to  the  arms 
of  weeping  friends.  There  was  no  point  of  the  history 
which  the  apostle  has  recorded  for  the  instruction  of 
posterity,  which  Cyprian  did  not  hear,  with  all  its 
minuter  circumstances,  from  his  own  mouth.  Nay, 
he  was  himself  a  witness  of  the  exercise  of  that  same 
power  of  God  which  was  committed  without  measure 
to  Jesus,  on  the  part  of  the  apostle.  He  stood  by — his 
spirit  wrapt  and  wonderstruck — while  at  the  name  of 
Jesus  the  lame  walked,  the  blind  recovered  their  sight, 
and  the  sick  leaped  from  their  couches.  When  this 
great  apostle  was  fallen  asleep,  my  father,  by  the 
counsel  of  St.  John,  and  that  his  faith  might  be  yet 
farther  confirmed,  travelled  over  all  the  scenes  of  the 
Christian  history.  He  visited  the  towns  and  cities  of 
Judea,  where  Jesus  had  done  his  marvellous  works. 
He  conversed  with  the  children  of  those  who  had  been 
subjects  of  the  healing  power  of  the  Messiah.  He  was 
with  those  who  themselves  had  mingled  among  the 
multitudes  who  encompassed  him,  when  Lazarus  was 
summoned  from  the  grave,  and  who  clung  to  the  cross 
when  Jesus  was  upon  it  dying,  and  witnessed  the 
sudden  darkness,  and  felt  the  quaking  of  the  earth. 
Finding,  wherever  he  turned  his  steps  in  Judea,  from 
Bethlehem  to  Nazareth,  from  the  Jordan  to  the  great 
sea,  the  whole  land  filled  with  those  who,  as  either 
friends  or  enemies,  had  hung  upon  the  steps  of  Jesus, 
and  seen  his  miracles,  what  was  he,  to  doubt  whether 
such  a  person  as  Jesus  had  ever  lived,  or  had  ever 
done  those  wonderful  works  ?  He  doubted  not ;  he 
believed,  even  as  he  would  have  done  had  he  himself 
VOL.  i.  17 


190  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

been  present  as  a  disciple.  In  addition  to  this,  he  sa\tf 
at  the  places  where  they  were  kept,  the  evangelic  his 
tories,  in  the  writing  of  those  who  drew  them  up ; 
and  at  Rome,  at  Corinth,  at  Philippi,  at  Ephesus,  he 
handled  with  his  own  hands  the  letters  of  Paul,  which 
he  wrote  to  the  Christians  of  those  places;  and  in 
those  places  and  others,  did  he  dwell  and  converse  with 
multitudes  who  had  seen  and  heard  the  great  apostle, 
and  had  witnessed  the  wonders  he  had  wrought.  I, 
the  child  of  Cyprian's  old  age,  heard  from  him  all  that 
I  have  now  recounted  to  you.  I  sat  at  his  feet,  as  he 
had  sat  at  the  evangelist's,  and  from  him  I  heard  the 
various  experiences  of  his  long,  laborious,  and  troubled 
life.  Could  I  help  but  believe  what  I  heard  ? — and  so 
could  I  help  but  be  a  Christian  ?  My  father  was  a 
man — and  all  Syria  knows  him  to  have  been  such  an 
one — of  a  passionate  love  of  truth.  At  any  moment 
would  he  have  cheerfully  suffered  torture  and  death, 
sooner  than  have  swerved  from  the  strictest  allegiance 
to  its  very  letter.  Nevertheless,  he  would  not  that  I 
should  trust  to  him  alone,  but  as  the  apostle  had  sent 
him  forth,  so  he  sent  me  forth,  to  read  the  evidences 
of  the  truth  of  this  religion  in  the  living  monuments  of 
Judea.  I,  too,  wandered  a  pilgrim  over  the  hills  and 
plains  of  Galilee.  I  sat  in  the  synagogue  at  Nazareth. 
I  dwelt  in  Capernaum.  I  mused  by  the  shore  of  the 
Galilean  lake.  I  haunted  the  ruins  of  Jerusalem,  and 
sought  out  the  places  where  the  Savior  of  men  had 
passed  the  last  hours  of  his  life.  Night  after  night  I 
wept  and  prayed  upon  the  Mount  of  Olives.  Wher 
ever  I  went,  and  among  whomsoever  I  mingled,  I  found 
witnesses  eloquent  and  loud,  and  without  number,  to 


2ENOBIA.  191 

all  the  principal  facts  and  events  of  our  sacred  history. 
Ten  thousand  traditions  of  the  life  and  acts  of  Christ 
and  his  apostles,  all  agreeing  substantially  with  the 
written  records,  were  passing  from  mouth  to  mouth, 
and  descending  from  sire  to  son.  The  whole  land,  in 
all  its  length  and  breadth,  was  but  one  vast  monument 
to  the  truth  of  Christianity.  And  for  this  purpose  it 
was  resorted  to  by  the  lovers  of  truth  from  all  parts  of 
the  world.  Did  doubts  arise  in  the  mind  of  a  dweller 
in  Rome,  or  Carthage,  or  Britain,  concerning  the  whole 
or  any  part  of  the  Christian  story,  he  addressed  letters 
to  well  known  inhabitants  of  the  Jewish  cities,  or  he 
visited  them  in  person,  and  by  a  few  plain  words  from 
another,  or  by  the  evidence  of  his  own  eyes  and  ears, 
every  doubt  was  scattered.  When  I  had  stored  my 
mind  with  knowledge  from  these  original  sources,  I 
then  betook  myself  to  some  of  the  living  oracles  of 
Christian  wisdom,  with  the  fame  of  whose  learning 
and  piety  the  world  was  filled.  From  the  great  Cle 
ment  of  Rome,  from  Dionysius  at  Alexandria,  from 
Tertullian  at  Carthage,  from  that  wonder  of  human 
genius,  Origen,  in  his  school  at  Caesarea,  I  gathered 
together  what  more  was  needed  to  arm  me  for  the 
Christian  warfare ;  and  I  then  went  forth  full  of  faith 
myself  to  plant  its  divine  seeds  in  the  hearts  of  who 
soever  would  receive  them.  In  this  good  work  my 
days  have  been  spent.  I  have  lived  and  taught  but  to 
unfold  to  others  the  evidences  which  have  made  me  a 
Christian.  My  children,' continued  he,  'why  should 
you  not  receive  my  words  ?  why  should  I  desire  to 
deceive  you?  I  am  an  old  man,  trembling  upon  the 
borders  of  the  grave.  Can  I  have  any  wish  to  injure 


192  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

you  ?  Is  it  conceivable  that,  standing  thus  already  as 
it  were  before  the  bar  of  God,  I  could  pour  false  and 
idle  tales  into  your  ears  ?  But  if  I  have  spoken  truly, 
can  you  refuse  to  believe  ?  But  I  must  not  urge.  Use 
your  freedom.  Inquire  for  yourselves.  Let  the  lei 
sure  and  the  wealth  which  are  yours  carry  you  to  read 
with  your  own  eyes  that  wide-spread  volume  which 
you  will  find  among  the  mountains  and  valleys  of  the 
holy  land.  Princess,  my  strength  is  spent,  or  there  is 
much  more  I  could  gladly  add.' 

'  My  friends,'  said  the  princess,  '  are,  I  am  sure, 
grateful  for  what  you  have  said,  and  they  have  heard/ 

'  Indeed  we  are,'  said  Fausta,  '  and  heartily  do  we 
thank  you.  One  thing  more  would  I  ask.  What 
think  you  of  the  prospects  of  the  Christian  faith  ?  Are 
the  common  reports  of  its  rapid  ascendency  to  be 
heeded  ?  Is  it  making  its  way,  as  we  are  told,  even 
into  the  palaces  of  kings  ?  I  know,  indeed,  what 
happens  in  Palmyra  ;  but  elsewhere,  holy  father  ? ' 

As  Fausta  spoke  these  words,  the  aged  man  seemecl 
wrapped  in  thought.  His  venerable  head  sank  upon 
his  breast ;  his  beard  swept  the  ground.  At  length, 
slowly  raising  his  head,  and  with  eyes  lifted  upward, 
he  said,  in  deep  and  solemn  tones :  '  It  cannot,  it  can 
not  be  difficult  to  read  the  future.  It  must  be  so.  I 
see  it  as  if  it  were  already  come.  The  throne  which 
is  red  with  blood,  and  he  who  sits  thereon,  wielding  a 
sword  dropping  blood,  sinks — sinks — and  disappears ; 
and  one  all  white,  and  he  who  sits  thereon,  having 
upon  his  frontlet  these  words,  "  Peace  on  earth  and 
good  will  toward  men,"  rises  and  fills  its  place.  And 
I  hear  a  movement  as  of  a  multitude  which  no  man 


2ENOBIA.  193 

Can  number,  coming  and  worshipping  around  the 
throne.  God  of  the  whole  earth,  arise  ! — visit  it  with 
thy  salvation!  Hasten  the  coining  of  the  universal 
kingdom  of  thy  Son,  when  all  shall  know  thee,  and 
love  to  God  and  love  to  man  possess  and  fill  every 
soul.' 

As  the  venerable  man  uttered  this  prayer,  Julia 
looked  steadfastly  upon  him,  and  a  beauty  more  than 
of  earth  seemed  to  dwell  upon  her  countenance. 

'  Father,'  said  Fausta,  '  we  are  not  now  fair  judges 
of  truth.  Your  discourse  has  wrought  so  upon  us,  that 
we  need  reflection  before  we  can  tell  what  we  ought 
to  believe.' 

'  That  is  just,'  said  the  saint ;  '  to  determine  right, 
we  must  think  as  well  as  feel.  And  that  your  minds 
may  the  sooner  return  to  the  proper  state,  let  me  set 
before  you  of  such  as  my  dwelling  will  afford. ' 

Saying  this,  he  moved  from  the  seat  which  till  now 
he  had  retained,  and  closing  the  volume  he  had  been 
reading,  laid  it  away  with  care,  saying  as  he  did  so, 
'  This,  children,  is  the  Christian's  book  ;  not  containing 
all  those  writings  which  we  deem  to  be  of  authority  in 
describing  our  faith,  but  such  as  are  most  needful.  It 
is  from  reading  this,  and  noting  as  you  read  the  inward 
marks  of  honesty,  and  observing  how  easy  it  were, 
even  now,  by  visiting  Judea,  to  convict  its  authors  of 
error  and  falsehood,  had  they  been  guilty  of  either,  that 
your  minds  will  be  best  able  to  judge  of  the  truth  and 
worth  of  Christianity.' 

'  At  another  time,  father,'  said  Fausta,  *  it  would 
give  me  great  delight,  and  equally  too,  I  am  sure,  our 
friend  from  Rome,  if  you  would  read  to  us  portions  of 
VOL.  i.  17*' 


194 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A 


that  volume,  that  we  may  know  somewhat  of  its  con 
tents  from  your  lips,  accompanied  too  by  such  comments 
as  you  might  deem  useful  to  learners.  It  is  thus  we 
have  often  heard  the  Greek  and  Roman  writers  from 
the  mouth  of  Longinus.' 

'  Whenever,'  he  replied,  '  you  shall  be  willing  to 
ascend  these  steep  and  rugged  paths,  in  pursuit  of 
truth,  I  in  my  turn  will  stand  prepared  to  teach.  To 
behold  such  listeners  before  me,  brings  back  the  life  of 
former  days.' 

He  then,  with  short  and  interrupted  steps,  busied 
himself  in  bringing  forth  his  humble  fare.  Bread  and 
fruits,  and  olives,  formed  our  light  repast,  together 
with  ice-cold  water,  which  Julia,  seizing  from  his  hand 
the  hermit's  pitcher,  brought  from  a  spring  that  gushed 
from  a  neighboring  rock. 

This  being  ended,  and  with  it  much  various  and 
agreeable  conversation,  in  the  course  of  which  the 
Christian  patriarch  gave  many  striking  anecdotes  of 
his  exposed  and  toilsome  life,  we  rose,  and  bidding 
farewell,  with  promises  to  return  again,  betook  our 
selves  to  our  horses,  and  mounting  them,  were  soon  at 
the  gates  of  the  palace. 

I  confess  myself  interested  in  the  question  of  Chris 
tianity.  The  old  religions  are  time-worn,  and  in  effect 
dead.  To  the  common  people,  when  believed,  they 
are  as  often  injurious  as  useful — to  others,  they  are  the 
objects  of  open,  undisguised  contempt.  Yet  religion, 
in  some  form,  the  human  mind  must  have.  We  feel 
the  want  of  it  as  we  do  of  food  and  drink.  But,  as  in 
the  case  of  food  and  drink,  it  must  be  something  that 
we  shall  perceive  to  nourish  and  strengthen,  not  to 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  195 

debilitate  and  poison.  In  my  searches  through  an 
tiquity,  I  have  found  no  system  which  I  could  rest  in 
as  complete  and  satisfying.  They  all  fail  in  many 
vital  points.  They  are  frequently  childish  in  their 
requisitions  and  their  principles ;  their  morality  is 
faulty;  their  spirit  narrow  and  exclusive;  and  more 
than  all)  they  are  without  authority.  The  principles 
which  are  to  guide,  control,  and  exalt  our  nature,  it 
seems  to  me,  must  proceed  from  the  author  of  that 
nature.  The  claim  of  Christianity  to  be  a  religion 
provided  for  man  by  the  Creator  of  man,  is  the  feature 
in  it  which  draws  me  toward  it.  This  claim  I  shall 
investigate  and  scan,  with  all  the  ability  and  learning 
I  can  bring  to  the  work.  But  whatever  I  or  you  may 
think  of  it,  or  ultimately  determine,  every  eye  must  see 
with  what  giant  steps  it  is  striding  onward — temples, 
religions,  superstitions,  and  powers  crumbling  and 
dissolving  at  its  approach.  Farewell. 


196  2  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 


LETTER    VIII. 

THE  words  of  that  Christian  recluse,  my  Curtius, 
still  ring  in  my  ear.  I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  there 
is  a  strange  power  in  all  that  I  have  heard  from  any 
of  that  sect.  You  remember  how  I  was  struck  by  the 
manner,  the  countenance,  and  above  all  by  the  senti 
ments  of  Probus,  ihe  Christian  whom  I  encountered  on 
his  way  to  Carthage.  A  still  stronger  feeling  possesses 
me,  when  I  hear  the  same  things  from  the  lips  of  Julia. 
It  seems  as  if  she  herself,  and  the  religion  she  discourses 
of,  must  proceed  from  the  same  author.  She  is  cer 
tainly  a  divine  work.  And  there  is  such  an  alliance 
between  her  and  those  truths,  that  I  am  ready  almost 
to  believe  that  for  this  reason  alone  they  must  have 
that  very  divine  origin  which  is  claimed  for  them.  la 
there  any  thing  in  our  Roman  superstitions,  or  philoso 
phy  even,  that  is  at  all  kindred  to  the  spirit  of  a  perfect 
woman? — any  thing  suited  to  her  nature?  Has  it 
ever  seemed  as  if  woman  were  in  any  respect  the  care 
of  the  gods  ?  In  this,  Christianity  differs  from  all 
former  religions  and  philosophies.  It  is  feminine.  I 
do  not  mean  by  that,  weak  or  effeminate.  But  in  its 
gentleness,  in  the  suavity  of  its  tone,  in  the  humanity 
of  its  doctrines,  in  the  deep  love  it  breathes  toward  all 
of  human  kind,  in  the  high  rank  it  assigns  to  the  vir 
tues  which  are  peculiarly  those  of  woman,  in  these 
things  and  many  others,  it  is  throughout  for  them  as 
well  as  for  us — almost  more  for  them  than  for  us.  In 
ihis  feature  of  it,  so  strange  and  new,  I  see  marks  of  a 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  197 

wisdom  beyond  that  of  any  human  fabricator.  A  hu 
man  inventor  would  scarcely  have  conceived  such  a 
system;  and  could  he  have  conceived  it,  would  not 
have  dared  to  publish  it.  It  would  have  been  in  his 
judgment  to  have  wantonly  forfeited  the  favor  of  the 
world.  The  author  of  Christianity,  with  a  divine  bold 
ness,  makes  his  perfect  man,  in  the  purity  and  beauty 
of  his  character,  the  counterpart  of  a  perfect  woman. 
The  virtues  upon  which  former  teachers  have  chiefly 
dwelt,  are  by  him  almost  unnoticed,  and  those  soft  and 
feminine  ones,  which  others  seem  to  have  utterly  for 
gotten,  he  has  exalted  to  the  highest  place.  So  that, 
as  I  before  said,  Julia  discoursing  to  me  of  Christianity 
is  in  herself,  in  the  exact  accordance  between  her  mind 
and  heart  and  that  faith,  the  strongest  argument  I  have 
yet  found  of  its  truth.  I  do  not  say  that  I  am  a  believer. 
I  am  not.  But  I  cannot  say  what  the  effect  may  be  of 
a  few  more  interviews  with  the  hermit  of  the  moun 
tain,  in  company  with  the  princess.  His  arguments, 
illustrated  by  her  presence,  will  carry  with  them  not  a 
little  force. 

When,  after  our  interview  with  the  Christian,  we 
had  returned  to  the  Queen's  villa,  we  easily  persuaded 
ourselves  that  the  heat  of  the  day  was  too  great  for  us 
to  set  out,  till  toward  the  close  of  it,  for  the  city.  So 
we  agreed,  in  the  absence  of  the  Queen  and  other 
guests,  to  pass  the  day  after  our  own  manner,  and  by 
ourselves.  The  princess  proposed  that  we  should  con 
fine  ourselves  to  the  cool  retreats  near  the  fountain  of 
the  Elephant,  made  also  more  agreeable  to  us  than  any 
other  place  by  the  delightful  hours  we  had  sat  there 
listening  to  the  melodious  accents  of  the  great  Longinus. 


198  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

To  this  proposal  we  quickly  and  gladly  assented.  Our 
garments  being  then  made  to  correspond  to  the  exces 
sive  heats  of  the  season,  soothed  by  the  noise  of  the 
falling  waters,  and  fanned  by  slaves  who  waved  to  and 
fro  huge  leaves  of  the  palm  tree,  cut  into  graceful  forms, 
and  set  in  gold  or  ivory,  we  resigned  ourselves  to  that 
sleepy  but  yet  delicious  state  which  we  reach  only  a 
few  times  in  all  our  lives,  when  the  senses  are  perfectly 
satisfied  and  filled,  and  merely  to  live  is  bliss  enough. 
But  our  luxurious  ease  was  slightly  diversified  with 
additions  and  changes  no  ways  unwelcome.  Ever  and 
anon  slaves  entered,  bearing  trays  laden  with  every 
rare  and  curious  confection  which  the  art  of  the  East 
supplies,  but  especially  with  drinks  cooled  by  snow 
brought  from  the  mountains  of  India.  These,  in  the 
most  agreeable  manner,  recruited  our  strength  when 
exhausted  by  fits  of  merriment,  or  when  one  had  become 
weary  of  reading  or  reciting  a  story  for  the  amusement 
of  the  others,  and  the  others  as  weary,  or  more  weary, 
by  listening.  It  were  in  vain  to  attempt  to  recall  for 
your  and  Lucilia's  entertainment  the  many  pleasant 
things  which  were  both  said  and  done  on  this  day  never 
to  be  forgotten.  And  besides,  perhaps,  were  they  set 
down  in  order  and  sent  to  Rome,  the  spicy  flavor  which 
gave  life  to  them  here  might  all  exhale,  and  leave  them 
flat  and  dull.  Suffice  it  therefore  to  say,  that  in  our 
judgment  many  witty  and  learned  sayings  were  uttered 
— for  the  learning,  that  must  rest  upon  our  declaration — 
for  the  wit,  the  slaves  will  bear  witness  to  it,  as  they 
did  then,  by  their  unrestrained  bursts  of  laughter. 

It  was  with  no  little  reluctance  that,  as  the  last  rays 
of  the  sun  fell  upon  the  highest  jet  of  the  fountain,  we 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  199 

heard  the  princess  declare  that  the  latest  hour  had 
come,  and  we  must  fain  prepare  for  the  city.  A  little 
time  sufficed  for  this,  and  we  were  soon  upon  out 
horses  threading  the  denies  among  the  hills,  or  flying 
over  the  plains.  A  few  hours  brought  us  within  the 
gates  of  the  city.  Leaving  Julia  at  the  palace  of  the 
Queen,  we  turned  toward  the  house  of  Gracchus.  Its 
lofty  front  soon  rose  before  us.  As  we  passed  into  the 
court-yard,  the  first  sound  that  greeted  me  was  Milo's 
blundering  voice:  'Welcome,  most  noble  Gallienus, 
welcome  again  to  Palmyra  ! ' 

*  I  am  not,'  said  I,  *  quite  an  emperor  yet,  but  not 
withstanding,  I  am  glad  to  be  in  Palmyra — more  glad 
to  be  at  the  house  of  Gracchus — and  glad  most  of  all 
to  see  Gracchus  himself  at  home,  and  well' — the  noble 
Roman — as  I  shall  call  him — at  that  moment  issuing 
from  a  door  of  the  palace,  and  descending  at  a  quick 
pace  the  steps,  to  assist  Fausta  from  her  horse. 

'  We  are  not,'  said  he,  '  long  separated;  but  to  those 
who  really  love,  the  shortest  separation  is  a  long  one, 
and  the  quickest  return  an  occasion  of  joy.'  Saying 
so,  he  embraced  and  kissed  his  beautiful  daughter,  and 
grasped  cordially  my  hand. 

'  Come,'  added  he,  '  enter  and  repose.  Your  ride 
has  been  a  sharp  one,  as  your  horses  declare,  and  the 
heat  is  great.  Let  us  to  the  banqueting-hall,  as  the 
coolest,  and  there  sit  and  rest.'  So  we  were  again 
soon  within  that  graceful  apartment,  where  I  had  first 
sat  and  tasted  the  hospitalities  of  Palmyra.  The  gods 
above  were  still  at  their  feast,  drinking  or  drunken. 
Below,  we  sat  at  the  open  windows,  and  with  more 
temperance  regaled  ourselves  with  the  cool  air  that 


200  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

came  to  us,  richly  laden  with  the  fragrance  of  sur 
rounding  flowers,  and  with  that  social  converse  that  is 
more  inspiring  than  Falernian,  or  the  soft  Palmyrene. 
After  talking  of  other  things,  Gracchus  addressed  me 
saying : 

*  But  is  it  not  now  time,  Lucius,  that  a  letter  at  least 
came  from  Isaac  ?     I  have  forborne  to  inquire,  from 
time  to  time,  as  I  would  do  nothing  to  add  to  your 
necessary  anxiety.     It  surely  now  however  is  right  to 
consider  the  steps  next  to  be  taken,  if  he  shall  have 
failed  in  his  enterprise.' 

*  Isaac  and  Calpurnius,'  I  replied,  '  are  never  absent 
from  my  thoughts,  and  I  have  already  resolved — the 
gods  willing  and  favoring — that  when  a  period  of  suf 
ficient  length  shall  have  elapsed,  and  the  Jew  does  not 
appear,  having  either  perished  on  the  way  or  else  in 
the  capital  of  the  Great  King — myself  to  start,  as  I  at 
first  designed  to  do,  upon  this  expedition,  and  either 
return  with  my  brother,  or  else  die  also  in  the  endeavor. 
Seek  not,  Fausta,  as  I  perceive  you  are  about  to  do,  to 
turn  me  from  my  purpose.     It  will  be — it  ought  to  be 
— in  vain.     I  can  consent  no  longer  to  live  thus  in  the 
very  heart  of  life,  while  this  cloud  of  uncertainty  hangs 
over  the  fate  of  one  so  near  to  me.     Though  I  should 
depute  the  service  of  his  rescue  to  a  thousand  others, 
my  own  inactivity  is  insupportable,  and  reproaches  me 
like  a  crime.' 

'  I  was  not,  as  you  supposed,  Lucius,'  replied  Fausta, 
'  about  to  draw  you  away  from  your  purpose,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  to  declare  my  approbation  of  it.  Were  I 
Lucius,  my  thoughts  would  be,  I  am  sure,  what  yours 
now  are ;  and  to-morrow's  sun  would  light  me  on  the 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  201 

way  to  Ecbatana.  Nay,  father,  I  would  not  wait  a  day 
longer.  Woman  though  I  am,  I  am  almost  ready  to 
offer  myself  a  companion  of  our  friend  on  this  pious 
service.' 

'  I  shall  not,'  said  Gracchus,  '  undertake  to  dissuade 
our  friend  from  what  seems  now  to  be  his  settled  pur 
pose.  Yet  still,  for  our  sakes,  for  the  sake  of  the  aged 
Portia,  and  all  in  Rome,  I  could  wish — supposing  Isaac 
should  fail — that  one  more  attempt  might  be  made  in 
the  same  way,  ere  so  much  is  put  at  hazard.  It  needs 
no  great  penetration  to  see  how  highly  prized  by  Persia 
must  be  the  possession  of  such  a  trophy  of  her  prowess 
as  the  head  of  the  ancient  house  of  Piso — with  what 
jealousy  his  every  movement  would  be  watched,  and 
what  danger  must  wait  upon  any  attempt  at  his  deliv 
erance.  Moreover,  while  a  mere  hireling  might,  if 
detected,  have  one  chance  among  a  thousand  of  pardon 
and  escape,  even  that  were  wanting  to  you.  Another 
Piso  would  be  either  another  footstool  of  the  Persian 
despot,  while  life  should  last,  or  else  he  would  swing 
upon  a  Persian  gibbet,  and  so  would  perish  the  last  of 
a  noble  name.' 

'  I  cannot  deny  that  reason  is  on  your  side,'  I  said, 
in  reply  to  this  strong  case  of  Gracchus, '  but  feeling  is 
on  mine,  and  the  contest  is  never  an  equal  one.  Feel 
ing  is,  perhaps,  the  essence  of  reason,  of  which  no 
account  need  or  can  be  given,  and  ought  to  prevail. 
But  however  this  may  be,  I  feel  that  I  am  right,  and 
so  I  must  act.' 

'  But  let  us  now  think  of  nothing  else,1  said  Fausta, 
'  than  that  before  another  day  is  ended,  we  shall  get 

VOL.    I.  18 


202  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

intelligence  of  Isaac.  Have  you,  Lucius,  inquired, 
since  your  return,  of  Demetrius  ? ' 

'  Milo  is  now  absent  on  that  very  errand,'  I  replied, 
'  and  here  he  is,  giving  no  signs  of  success.' 

Milo  at  the  same  moment  entered  the  hall,  and  stated 
that  Demetrius  was  himself  absent  from  the  city,  but 
was  every  moment  expected,  and  it  was  known  that  he 
had  been  seeking  anxiously — the  preceding  day — for 
me.  While  Milo  was  yet  speaking,  a  messenger  was 
announced,  inquiring  for  me,  and  before  I  could  reach 
the  extremity  of  the  apartment,  Demetrius  himself 
entered  the  room  in  haste,  brandishing  in  his  hand  a 
letter,  which  he  knew  well  to  be  from  Isaac. 

*  'T  is  his  own  hand,'  said  he.  '  The  form  of  his 
letters  is  not  to  be  mistaken.  Not  even  the  hand  of 
Demetrius  can  cut  with  more  grace  the  Greek  character. 
Observe,  Roman,  the  fashion  of  his  touch.  Isaac  would 
have  guided  a  rare  hand  at  the  graving  tool.  But  these 
Jews  shun  the  nicer  arts.  They  are  a  strange  people.' 

'  Quickly,'  said  I,  interrupting  the  voluble  Greek, 
'  as  you  love  the  gods,  deliver  to  me  the  letter !  By 
and  by  we  will  discourse  of  these  things' — and  seizing 
the  epistle,  I  ran  with  it  to  another  apartment,  first  to 
devour  it  myself. 

I  cannot  tell  you,  dear  friends,  with  what  eagerness 
I  drank  in  the  contents  of  the  letter,  and  with  what 
ecstasy  of  joy  I  leaped  and  shouted  at  the  news  it 
brought.  In  one  word,  my  brother  lives,  and  it  is 
possible  that  before  this  epistle  to  you  shall  be  finished, 
he  himself  will  sit  at  my  side.  But  to  put  you  in 
possession  of  the  whole  case,  I  shall  transcribe  for  you 
the  chief  parts  of  Isaac's  careful  and  minute  account, 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  203 

preserving  for  your  amusement  much  of  what  in  no 
way  whatever  relates  to  the  affair  in  hand,  and  is  useful 
only  as  it  will  present  a  sort  of  picture  of  one  of  this 
strange  tribe.  As  soon  as  I  had  filled  myself  with  its 
transporting  contents,  I  hastened  to  the  hall  where  I 
had  left  Fausta  and  Gracchus,  to  whom — Demetrius 
having  in  the  mean  time  taken  his  departure — I 
quickly  communicated  its  intelligence,  and  received 
their  hearty  congratulations,  and  then  read  it  to  them 
very  much  as  I  now  transcribe  it  for  you.  You  will 
now  acknowledge  my  obligations  to  this  kind-hearted 
Jew,  and  will  devoutly  bless  the  gods  for  my  acciden 
tal  encounter  with  him  on  board  the  Mediterranean 
trader.  Here  now  is  the  letter  itself. 


ISAAC,  the  Son  of  Isaac  of  Rome,  to  the  most  nolle 
L.  MANLIUS  Piso,  at  Palmyra : 

THAT  I  am  alive,  Roman,  after  the  perils  of  my 
journey,  and  the  worse  perils  of  this  Pagan  city,  can 
be  ascribed  to  nothing  else  than  the  protecting  arm  of 
the  God  of  our  nation.  It  is  new  evidence  to  me,  that 
somewhat  is  yet  to  be  achieved  by  my  ministry,  for 
the  good  of  my  country.  That  I  am  here  in  this  remote 
and  benighted  region,  that  I  should  have  adventured 
hither  in  the  service  of  a  Roman  to  save  one  Roman 
life,  when,  were  the  power  mine,  I  would  cut  off  every 
Roman  life,  from  the  babe  at  the  breast  to  the  silver 
head,  and  lay  waste  the  kingdom  of  the  great  Mother 
of  Iniquity  with  fire  and  sword,  is  to  me  a  thing  so 
wonderful,  that  I  refer  it  all  to  the  pleasure  of  that 


204  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

Power,  who  orders  events  according  to  a  plan  and 
wisdom  impenetrable  by  us.  Think  not,  Roman,  that 
I  have  journeyed  so  far  for  the  sake  of  thy  two  talents 
of  gold — though  that  is  considerable.  And  the  mention 
of  this  draws  my  mind  to  a  matter,  overlooked  in  the 
stipulations  entered  into  between  thee  and  me,  at  my 
dwelling  in  Palmyra.  Singular,  that  so  weighty  a 
part  of  that  transaction  should  have  been  taken  no 
note  of !  Now  1  must  trust  it  wholly  to  thee,  Piso, 
and  feel  that  I  may  safely  do  so.  In  case  of  my  death, 
the  double  of  the  recompense  agreed  upon  was  to  be 
paid,  in  accordance  with  directions  left.  But  what 
was  to  be  done  in  case  of  thy  death  ?  Why,  most 
thoughtful  Isaac — most  prudent  of  men — for  this  thou 
didst  make  no  provision  !  And  yet  may  not  Piso  die 
as  well  as  Isaac  ?  Has  a  Roman  more  lives  than  a 
Jew  ?  Nay,  how  know  I  but  thou  art  now  dead,  and 
no  one  living  to  do  me  justice  ?  See  to  this,  excellent 
Roman.  Thou  wouldst  not  have  me  go  unrequited 
for  all  this  hazard  and  toil.  Let  thy  heirs  be  bound, 
by  sure  and  legal  instruments,  to  make  good  to  me  all 
thou  hast  bound  thyself  to  pay.  Do  this,  and  thy  gods 
and  my  God  prosper  thee  !  Forget  it  not.  Let  it  be 
done  as  soon  as  these  words  are  read.  Demetrius  will 
show  thee  one  who  will  draw  up  a  writing  in  agree 
ment  with  both  the  Palmyrene  and  Roman  Law. 
Unheard  of  heedlessness !  But  this  I  thought  not 
about  tilll  took  my  pen  to  write. 

What  was  I  saying  ? — that  I  came  not  for  thy  gold 
—that  is,  not  for  that  solely  or  chiefly.  For  what,  and 
why,  then  ?  Because,  as  I  have  hinted,  I  felt  myself 


Z  £  N  0  B  I  A  .  SOS 

driven  by  an  invisible  power  to  this  enterprise.  I  wait 
with  patience  to  know  what  its  issue  is  to  be. 

Now  let  me  inform  thee  of  my  journey  and  my 
doings.  But  first,  in  one  brief  word,  let  me  relieve 
thy  impatience  by  saying-,  I  think  thy  brother  is  to  be 
rescued  !  No  more  of  this  at  present,  but  all  in  order. 
When  I  parted  from  thee  that  night,  I  had  hardly 
formed  my  plan,  though  my  mind,  quick  in  all  its 
workings,  did  suddenly  conceive  one  way  in  which  it 
appeared  possible  to  me  to  compass  the  desired  object. 
Perhaps  you  will  deem  it  a  piece  of  rashness  rather" 
than  of  courage  so  quickly  to  undertake  your  affair, 
I  should  call  it  so  too,  did  I  not  also  catch  dimly  in  the 
depth  of  the  Heavens  the  form  of  the  finger  of  God, 
This  thou  wilt  not  and  canst  not  understand.  It  is- 
beyond  thee.  Is  it  not  so  ?  But,  Roman,  I  trust  the 
day  is  to  come  when  by  my  mouth,  if  not  by  another's, 
thou  shalt  hear  enough  to  understand  that  truth  is  to 
be  found  no  where  but  in  Moses.  Avoid  Probus.  I 
fear  me  he  is  already  in  Palmyra.  There  is  more 
cunning  in  him  than  is  good.  With  that  deep  face 
and  serene  air  he  deceives  many.  All  I  say  is,  shun 
him.  To  be  a  Roman  unbeliever  is  better  than  to  be 
a  Christian  heretic.  But  to  my  journey. 

The  morning  after  I  parted  from  thee  saw  me  issu 
ing  at  an  early  hour  from  the  Persian  Gate,  and  with 
my  single  Ethiopian  slave  bearing  toward  the  desert. 
I  took  with  me  but  a  light  bale  of  merchandise,  that  I 
might  not  burden  my  good  dromedary.  Than  mine, 
there  is  not  a  fleeter  in  the  whole  East.  One  nearly 
as  good,  and  at  a  huge  price,  did  I  purchase  for  my 
slave.  'T  was  too  suddenly  bought  to  be  cheaply 
VOL.  i.  18* 


206  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

bought.     But  I  was  not  cozened.     It  proved  a  rare 
animal.     I  think  there  lives  not  the  man  in  Palmyra 
or  Damascus  who  could  blind  Isaac.     I  determined  to 
travel  at  the  greatest  speed  we  and  our  beasts  could 
bear,  so  we  avoided  as  far  as  we  could  the  heats  of  day, 
and  rode  by  night.     The  first  day  being  through  the 
peopled  regions  of  the  Queen's  dominions,  and  through 
a  cultivated  country,  we  travelled  at  our  ease  ;  and  not 
un frequently  at  such  places  as  I  saw  promised  well, 
did  we  stop,  and  while  our  good  beasts  regaled  them 
selves  upon  the  rich  herbage  or  richer  grain,  trafficked. 
In  this  surely  I  erred  not.     For  losing,  as  I  have  done 
by  this  distant  and  unwonted  route,  the  trade  of  Ctesi- 
phon,  't  was  just,  was  it  not,  that  to  the  extent  possible, 
without  great  obstruction  thrown  in  the  way  of  your 
affairs,  I  should  repair  the  evil  of  that  loss  ?     Truth  to 
speak,  it  was  only  because  my  eye  foresaw  some  such 
profitings  on  the  way,  that  I  made  myself  contented  with 
but  two  gold  talents  of  Jerusalem.     Two  days  were 
passed  thus,  and  on  the  third  we  entered  upon  a  barren 
region — barren  as  where  the  prophet  found  no  food 
but  such  as  birds  from  Heaven  brought  him.     But  why 
speak  of  this  to  thee  ?     0,  that  thou  wouldst  but  once, 
only  once,  sit  at  the  feet  of  that  man  of  God,  Simon 
Ben   Gorah !      Solomon   was    not   more   wise.      His 
words  are  arrows  with  two  heads  from  a  golden  bow. 
His   reasons  weigh   as   the  mountains    of    Lebanon. 
They  break  and  crush  all  on  whom  they  fall.     Would, 
Roman,  they  might  sometime  fall  on  thee  !     The  third 
day  we  were  on  this  barren  region,  and  the  next  fairly 
upon  the  desert.     Now  did  we  reap  the  benefit  of  our 
good  beasts.     The  heat  was  like  that  of  the  furnace  of 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  207 

Nebuchadnezzar,  out  of  which  the  three  children, 
Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego  came,  through  the 
power  of  God,  unscorched.  And  moreover,  they  were 
soon  put  to  an  unwonted  and  unlocked  for  burden,  and 
in  such  a  manner  as,  to  thy  wonder,  I  shall  relate. 

It  was  a  day  the  air  of  which  was  like  the  air  of  that 
furnace — burning — burning  hot.  Death  was  written 
upon  the  whole  face  of  the  visible  earth.  Where 
leaves  had  been,  there  were  none  now,  or  they  crum 
bled  into  ashes  as  the  hand  touched  them.  The 
atmosphere,  when  moved  by  the  wind,  brought  not,  as 
it  is  used  to  do,  a  greater  coolness,  but  a  fiercer  heat. 
It  was  full  of  nickering  waves  that  danced  up  and 
down  with  a  quivering  motion,  and  dazzled  and  blind 
ed  the  eye  that  looked  upon  them.  And  the  sand  was 
not  like  that  which  for  the  most  part  is  met  with  on 
that  desert  stretching  from  the  Mediterranean  to  Pal 
myra,  and  of  which  thou  hast  had  some  experience — 
heavy,  and  hard,  and  seamed  with  cracks — but  fine, 
and  light,  and  raised  into  clouds  by  every  breath  of 
wind,  and  driven  into  the  skin  like  points  of  needles. 
When  the  wind,  as  frequently  it  did,  blew  with  vio 
lence,  we  could  only  stop  and  bury  our  faces  in  our 
garments,  our  poor  beasts  crying  out  with  pain.  It 
was  on  such  a  day,  having,  because  there  was  no 
place  of  rest,  been  obliged  to  endure  all  the  noonday 
heat,  that,  when  the  sun  was  at  the  highest  and  we 
looked  eagerly  every  way  for  even  a  dry  and  leafless 
bush  that  we  might  crouch  down  beneath  its  shade, 
we  saw  at  a  distance  before  us  the  tall  trunk  of  a  ce 
dar,  bleached  to  ivory,  and  twinkling  like  a  pharos 
under  the  hot  rays.  We  slowly  approached  it,  Hadad, 


208  z  E  N  o  in  A  . 

my  Ethiopian,  knowing  it  as  one  of  the  pillars  of  tfj£ 
desert. 

'  There  it  has  stood  and  shone  a  thousand  years/ 
said  he ;  *  and  but  for  such  marks,  who  could  cross 
these  seas  of  sand,  where  your  foot-mark  is  lost,  as 
soon  as  made  ? '  After  a  few  moments'  pause,  he  again 
exclaimed  :  '  And  by  the  beard  of  holy  Abraham !  a 
living  human  being  sits  at  the  root — or  else  mayhap 
my  eyes  deceive  me,  and  I  see  only  the  twisted  roots 
of  the  tree.* 

*  'T  is  too  far  for  my  eyes  to  discern  aught  but  the 
blasted    trunk.      No  living  creature  can   dwell  here. 
'T  is  the  region  of  death  only/ 

A  blast  of  the  desert  struck  us  at  the  moment,  and 
well  nigh  buried  us  in  its  rushing  whirlwind  of  sand, 
We  stood  still,  closed  our  eyes,  and  bwried  our  faces 
in  the  folds  of  our  garments. 

1  Horrible  and  out  of  nature  ! '  I  cried — *  the  sun 
blazing  without  a  cloud  as  big  as  a  locust  to  dim  his 
ray,  and  yet  these  gusts,  like  the  raging  of  a  tempest. 
The  winds  surely  rise.  Providence  be  our  guide  out 
of  this  valley  of  fire  and  death  ! ' 

'  There  is  no  providence  here,'  said  the  slave,  '  nor 
any  where ;  else  why  these  savage  and  dreary  deserts, 
which  must  be  crossed,  and  yet  we  die  in  doing  it.' 

*  Hold  thy  peace,  blasphemer  ! '  I  could  not  but  rejoin, 
1  and  take  heed  lest  thy  impious  tongue  draw  down  a 
whirlwind  of  God  to  the  destruction  of  us  both.' 

1  The  curse  of  Arimanes' — began  the  irritated  slave 
— when  suddenly  he  paused,  and  cried  out  in  another 
tone  :  '  Look  !  look  !  Isaac,  and  see  now  for  thyself: 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A 


209 


J  am  no  Jew,  if  there  sit  not  a  woman  at  the  root  of 
yonder  tree.' 

I  looked,  and  now  that  we  had  drawn  nearer,  and 
the  wind  had  subsided  for  an  instant,  I  plainly  beheld 
the  form  of  a  woman,  bent  over  as  if  in  the  act  of 
holding  and  defending  an  infant.  I  believed  it  a  de 
lusion  of  Satan. 

'  ItJs  awful,'  said  I ;  '  but  let  us  hasten ;  if  it  be  a 
reality,  our  coming  must  be  as  the  descent  of  angels.' 

I  pressed  on  my  weary  animal,  and  in  a  few  mo 
ments  we  stood  before  what  seemed  indeed  a  human 
being,  of  flesh  and  bone — and  what  was  more  wonder 
ful  still,  a  woman.  Yet  she  stirred  not,  nor  gave  other 
sign  of  life. 

*  Is  the  breath  of  life  yet  in  you  ? '  I  cried  out — not 
doubting,  however,  that  whoever  it  was,  death  had 
already  released  her  from  her  misery — and  at  the  same 
time  laid  my  hand  upon  her  shoulder.  At  which  she 
started,  and  lifting  up  her  head,  the  very  ghastliness 
of  death  stamped  upon  every  feature,  she  shrieked  :  'I 
drown  !  I  drown  !  Hassan,  save  me  ! '  and  her  head 
fell  again  upon  her  knees. 

'  Poor  fool,'  said  I,  '  thou  art  upon  the  sands  of  the 
desert,  and  thou  dreamest :  awake  ! — awake  ! — and 
here  is  water  for  thee — real  water.' 

At  which  she  waked  indeed,  with  a  convulsive  start, 
and  while  with  one  hand  she  held  fast  her  child — for 
a  child  was  indeed  laid  away  among  the  folds  of  her 
garments — with  the  other  she  madly  grasped  the 
small  cup  I  held  out  to  her,  and  tearing  aside  the 
covering  from  the  face  of  the  infant,  she  forced  open  its 
mouth,  and  poured  in  some  of  the  water  we  gave  her, 


210  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

watching  its  effect.  Soon  as  the  little  one  gave  signs 
of  life,  she  drank  the  remainder  at  a  draught,  crying 
out,  <  More  !  more  ! '  Our  water,  of  which  we  had  as 
yet  good  store,  though  hot  as  the  wind  itself,  quickly 
restored  both  mother  and  child. 

'  And  now  tell  me,  miserable  woman,  what  direful 
chance  has  brought  and  left  thee  here  ? — but  hasten — 
speak  quickly  as  thou  canst — and  dost  thou  look  for 
any  one  to  come  to  thy  relief? * 

'  Robbers  of  the  desert,'  said  she,  •  have  either  mur 
dered  or  carried  into  slavery  my  husband,  and  destroyed 
and  scattered  the  caravan  of  which  we  made  a  part. 
I  am  alone  in  the  desert ;  and  I  know  of  no  relief  but 
such  as  you  can  give.  Leave  us  not,  if  you  are  men, 
to  perish  in  these  burning  sands  ! ' 

1  Fear  not  that  I  will  leave  you,'  said  I :  '  what  I  can 
spare,  shall  freely  be  thine.  But  time  is  precious,  for 
we  are  yet  but  midway  the  desert,  and  the  signs  of  the 
heavens  portend  wind  and  whirlwind  :  hasten  then  and 
mount  the  dromedary  of  my  slave,  while  I  upon  mine 
bear — as  stronger  than  thou — the  child.* 

'Isaac,'  here  muttered  Hadad,  in  an  undertone,  'art 
thou  mad  ?  Is  thy  reason  wholly  gone  ?  It  is  scarcely 
to  be  hoped  that  we  alone  may  cross  in  safety  what 
remains  of  the  desert,  beset  as  we  are  by  these  sweep 
ing  gusts,  and  wilt  thou  oppress  our  fainting  beasts 
with  this  new  burden  ? ' 

'  Thou  accursed  of  God  !  wouldst  thou  leave  these 
here  to  perish  ?  I  believed  not  before  that  out  of  hell 
there  could  be  so  black  a  soul.  Bring  down  thy  dro 
medary.  One  word  of  hesitancy,  and  thy  own  carcass 
shall  bleach  upon  the  sands.' 


Z  E  NOB  I  A  .  211 

I  knew  well  who  I  was  dealing  with — that  I  was 
safe  from  immediate  violence,  though  not  from  ultimate 
revenge. 

Hadad  then  drew  up  his  beast,  which  kneeling  re 
ceived  the  woman,  while  I  took  in  my  arms  the  child. 
We  then  set  forward  at  an  increased  pace,  to  reach 
before  night,  if  possible,  the  '  place  of  springs,'  where 
a  small  green  spot,  watered  by  fountains  which  never 
fail,  blesses  these  inhospitable  plains. 

Not  a  cloud  was  to  be  seen  in  all  the  compass  of  the 
heavens,  yet  the  winds  raged.  The  blueness  of  the 
sky  was  gone,  and  the  whole  inflamed  dome  above  us 
was  rather  of  the  color  of  molten  brass,  the  sun  being 
but  its  brightest  and  hottest  spot.  At  a  distance  we 
saw  clouds  of  sand  whirled  aloft,  and  driven  fiercely 
over  the  boundless  plain,  any  one  of  which,  it  seemed 
to  us,  if  it  should  cross  our  path,  would  bury  us  under 
its  moving  mass.  We  pressed  on,  trembling  and  silent 
through  apprehension.  The  blood  in  my  veins  seemed 
hotter  than  the  sand,  or  the  sun  that  beat  upon  my 
face.  Roman,  thou  canst  form  no  conception  of  the 
horrors  of  this  day.  But  for  my  faith,  I  should  have 
utterly  failed.  What  couldst  thou  have  done  ? — nay, 
or  the  Christian  Probus  ?  But  I  will  not  taunt  thee. 
I  will  rather  hope.  The  wind  became  more  and  more 
violent.  The  sand  was  driven  before  it  like  chafT. 
Sometimes  the  tempest  immediately  around  us  would 
abate,  but  it  only  served  to  fill  us  with  new  apprehen 
sions,  by  revealing  to  us  the  tossings  of  this  great  deep, 
in  the  distance.  At  one  of  these  moments,  as  I  was 
taking  occasion  to  speak  a  word  of  comfort  to  the  half 
dead  mother,  and  cherish  the  little  one  whom  I  bore,  a 


212  ZEN  OBI  A. 

sound  as  of  the  roar  of  ocean  caught  my  ear — more 
awful  than  aught  I  had  yet  heard — and  at  the  same 
time  a  shriek  and  a  shout  from  Hadad,  *  God  of  Israel, 
save  us  !  The  sand  !  the  sand  ! ' 

I  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  and  there  in 
the  south  it  looked — God,  how  terrible  to  behold ! — 
as  if  the  whole  plain  were  risen  up,  and  were  about  to 
fall  upon  us. 

*  'T  is  vain  to  fly ! '  I  cried  aloud  to  Hadad,  who  was 
urging  his  animal  to  its  utmost  speed.  '  Let  us  perish 
together.  Besides,  observe  the  heaviest  and  thickest 
of  the  cloud  is  in  advance  of  us.' 

The  mother  of  the  child  cried  out,  as  Hadad  insanely 
hastened  on,  for  her  offspring,  to  whom  I  answered: 
'  Trust  the  young  Ishmael  to  me — fear  me  not — 
cleave  to  the  dromedary.' 

Hardly  were  the  words  spoken,  when  the  whirlwind 
struck  us.  We  were  dashed  to  the  earth  as  we  had 
been  weeds.  My  senses  were  for  a  time  lost  in  the 
confusion  and  horror  of  the  scene.  I  only  knew  that  I 
had  been  torn  from  my  dromedary — borne  along  and 
buried  by  the  sand — and  that  the  young  child  was 
still  in  my  arms.  In  the  first  moment  of  consciousness, 
I  found  myself  struggling  to  free  myself  from  the  sand 
which  was  heaped  around  and  over  me.  In  this,  after 
a  time,  I  succeeded,  and  in  restoring  to  animation  the 
poor  child,  choked  and  blinded,  yet — wonderful  indeed 
— not  dead.  I  then  looked  around  for  Hadacl  and  the 
woman,  but  they  were  no  where  to  be  seen.  I  shouted 
aloud,  but  there  was  no  answer.  The  sand  had  now 
fallen — the  wind  had  died  away — and  no  sound  met 
my  ear,  but  the  distant  rumbling  of  the  retreating 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  213 

storm.  Not  far  from  me,  my  own  dromedary  stood, 
partly  buried  in  sand,  and  vainly  endeavoring  to  extri 
cate  himself.  With  my  aid,  this  was  quickly  effected. 
I  was  soon  upon  his  back.  But  I  knew  not  which  way 
to  turn.  My  dependence  was  upon  Hadad,  familiar 
with  the  route.  The  sun  however  had  declined  sensi 
bly  toward  the  west — I  knew  that  my  general  direction 
was  toward  the  east  and  north,  so  that  with  some  cer 
tainty  as  to  the  true  path,  I  sorrowfully  recommenced 
my  journey.  Have  I  not  thy  pity,  Roman  ?  Has  a 
worse  case  ever  come  to  thy  ear  ?  I  will  not  distress 
thee  by  reciting  my  sufferings  all  the  way  to  the 
'  place  of  springs,'  which  by  the  next  morning,  plod 
ding  on  wearily  through  the  night,  I  safely  reached. 

There  one  of  the  first  objects  that  greeted  me,  was 
Hadad  and  the  mother  of  my  Ishmael.  I  approached 
them  unobserved,  as  they  sat  on  the  border  of  a  spring, 
in  the  midst  of  other  travellers,  some  of  whom  I  saw 
were  comforting  the  wailing  Hagar — and,  without  a 
word, dropped  the  young  child  into  the  lap  of  its  mother. 
Who  shall  describe  the  transports  of  her  joy?  'T  was 
worth,  Piso,  the  journey  and  all  its  hazards. 

How  refreshing  it  was  to  lie  here  on  the  cool  soil, 
beneath  the  shade  of  the  grateful  palm,  enjoying  every 
moment  of  existence,  and  repairing  the  injuries  the 
journey  had  inflicted  upon  ourselves  and  our  beasts  ! 
Two  days  we  passed  in  this  manner.  While  here, 
Hadad  related  what  befel  him  after  our  separation. 
Owing  to  his  urging  on  his  animal  in  that  mad  way, 
at  the  time  I  called  out  to  him,  instead  of  stopping  01 
retreating,  he  was  farther  within  the  heart  of  the  cloud 
than  I,  and  was  more  rudely  handled. 
VOL.  i.  19 


214  Z  £  N  0  B  I  A  . 

*  Soon  as  the  blast  fell  upon  us,'  said  he, '  that  instant 
was  my  reason  gone.  I  knew  nothing  for  I  cannot  tell 
how  long.  But  when  I  came  to  myself,  and  found 
that  I  was  not  in  the  place  of  the  wicked — whereat  I 
rejoiced  and  was  amazed — I  discovered,  on  looking 
round,  that  my  good  dromedary,  whom  I  could  ill  spare, 
was  dead  and  buried,  and  your  Hagar,  whom  I  could 
have  so  well  spared,  alive  and  weeping  for  her  lost  boy. 
I  made  her,  with  difficulty,  comprehend  that  time  was 
precious,  and  that  strength  would  be  impaired  by  weep 
ing  and  wailing.  Knowing  at  once  in  what  direction 
to  travel — after  searching  in  vain  for  thee — we  set  out 
upon  a  journey,  which,  on  foot,  beneath  a  burning  sun, 
and  without  water,  there  was  small  hope  of  accomplish 
ing.  I  looked  with  certainty  to  die  in  the  desert.  But 
Oromasdes  was  my  protector.  See,  Isaac,  the  advan 
tage  of  a  little  of  many  faiths.  We  had  not  travelled 
far  among  the  hillocks,  or  hills  rather,  of  sand  which 
we  found  piled  up  in  our  way,  and  completely  altering 
the  face  of  the  plain,  before,  to  our  amazement  and  our 
joy,  we  discovered  a  camel,  without  rider  or  burden, 
coming  toward  us.  I  secured  him  without  difficulty. 
At  a  little  distance,  we  soon  saw  another ;  and  by  and 
by  we  found  that  we  were  passing  over  the  graves  of 
a  caravan,  the  whole  or  chief  part  of  which  had  been 
overwhelmed  by  the  storm.  Here  was  a  body  partly 
out  of  the  sand,  there  the  head  or  leg  of  a  dromedary 
or  camel.  Ruin  and  death  seemed  to  have  finished 
their  work.  But  it  was  not  quite  so.  For  presently 
on  reaching  the  summit  of  a  wave  of  sand,  we  discerned 
a  remnant  mounted  upon  the  beasts  that  had  been  saved, 
making  in  the  same  direction,  and  probably  to  the  same 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A. 


215 


point,  as  ourselves.  We  joined  them,  and  partaking 
of  their  water,  were  recruited,  and  so  reached  this  place 
alive.  It  is  now  from  here,'  he  added,  'a  safe  and 
easy  road  to  Ecbatana.' 

So  we  found  it.  But  confess  now,  noble  Piso,  if  in 
thy  judgment  it  would  have  been  exorbitant  if  I  had 
required  of  thee  three  talents  of  Jerusalem  instead  of 
two  ?  For  what  wouldst  thou  cross  that  molten  sea, 
and  be  buried  under  its  fiery  waves  !  It  is  none  other 
than  a  miracle  that  I  am  here  alive  in  Ecbatana.  And 
for  thee  I  fear  that  miracle  would  not  have  been  wrought. 
Hadst  thou  been  in  my  place,  the  sands  of  the  desert 
were  now  thy  dwelling-place.  Yet  have  I  again  to 
tempt  those  horrors.  Being  here,  I  must  return.  The 
dromedary  of  my  slave  Hadad  was  worth  a  hundred 
aurelians.  A  better  or  a  fleeter  never  yet  was  in  the 
stables  of  Zenobia.  And  dost  thou  know,  Roman, 
how  curious  the  Queen  is  in  horses  and  dromedaries  ? 
There  cannot  a  rare  one  of  either  kind  enter  the  walls 
of  Palmyra,  but  he  is  straightway  bought  up  for  the 
service  of  Zenobia.  The  swiftest  in  the  East  are  hers. 
'T  was  my  purpose,  returning,  to  have  drawn  upon 
Hadad's  beast  the  notice  of  the  Queen.  Doubtless  I 
should  have  sold  it  to  her,  and  two  hundred  aurelians 
is  the  very  least  I  should  have  asked  or  taken  for  her. 
To  no  other  than  Zenobia  would  I  have  parted  with 
her  for  less  than  three  hundred.  But  alas !  her  bones 
are  on  the  desert.  But  why,  you  ask,  should  I  have 
so  favored  Zenobia  ?  It  is  no  wonder  you  ask.  And 
in  answer,  I  tell  thee  perhaps  a  secret.  Zenobia  is  a 
Jewess  !  Receive  it  or  not,  as  thou  wilt — she  is  a 
Jewess — and  her  heart  is  tender  toward  our  tribe.  I 


216  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

do  not  say,  mark  me,  that  she  is  one  by  descent,  nor 
that  she  is  so  much  as  even  a  proselyte  of  the  Gate,  but 
that  she  believes  in  some  sort  Moses  and  the  prophets 
and  reads  our  sacred  books.  These  things  I  know  well 
from  those  who  have  been  near  her.  But  who  ever 
heard  that  she  has  been  seen  to  read  the  books  of  the 
Christians  !  Probus  will  not  dare  to  assert  it.  'T  is 
not  more  public  that  Longinus  himself  is  inclined  to 
our  faith — by  my  head,  I  doubt  not  that  he  is  more 
than  inclined — than  'tis  that  Zenobia  is.  If  our  Messi 
ah  should  first  of  all  gird  on  the  sword  of  Palmyra, 
what  Jew,  whose  sight  is  better  than  a  mole's,  would  be 
surprised  ?  My  father — may  his  sleep  be  sweet ! — 
whose  beard  came  lower  than  his  girdle,  and  whose 
wisdom  was  famous  throughout  the  East,  built  much 
upon  what  he  knew  of  the  Queen,  and  her  great  minis 
ter,  and  used  to  say,  *  That  another  Barchochab  would 
arise  in  Palmyra,  whom  it  would  require  more  than 
another  Hadrian  to  hinder  in  his  way  to  empire  ;  and 
that  if  horses  again  swam  in  blood,  as  once  at  Either, 
'twould  be  in  Roman  blood.'  Who  am  I,  to  deny 
truth  and  flkelihood  to  the  words  of  one  in  whom  dwelt 
the  wisdom  of  Solomon  and  the  meekness  of  Moses, 
the  faith  of  Abraham,  the  valor  of  Gideon,  and  the 
patience  of  Job  ?  I  rather  maintain  their  truth.  And 
in  the  features  of  the  present  time,  I  read  change  and 
revolution — war,  and  uproar,  and  ruin — the  falling 
of  kingdoms  that  have  outlasted  centuries,  and  the 
uprising  of  others  that  shall  last  for  other  centuries.  ] 
see  the  Queen  of  the  East  at  battle  with  the  Emperor 
of  Rome,  and  through  her  victories  deliverance  wrought 
out  for  Israel,  and  the  throne  of  Judah  once  more 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  217 

erected  within  the  walls  of  Jerusalem!  Now  dost 
thou,  Piso,  understand,  I  suppose,  not  one  word  of  all 
this.  How  shouldst  thou  ?  But  I  trust  thou  wilt. 
Surely  now  you  will  say,  'What  is  all  this  to  the  pur 
pose  ? '  Not  much  to  any  present  purpose,  I  confess 
freely ;  and  I  should  not  marvel  greatly  if  thou  wert  to 
throw  this  letter  down  and  trample  it  in  the  dust — as 
Rome  has  done  by  Judea — but  that  thou  lookest  to 
hear  of  thy  brother.  Well,  now  I  will  tell  thee  of  him. 

When  we  drew  near  to  the  capital  of  the  Great  King, 
wishing  to  enrage  Hadad,  I  asked,  *  What  mud-walled 
village  is  it  that  we  see  yonder  over  the  plain  ? '  Thou 
shouldst  have  seen  the  scowl  of  his  eye — answer  he 
gave  none.  I  spit  upon  such  a  city — I  cast  out  my 
shoe  upon  it !  I  who  have  dwelt  at  Rome,  Carthage, 
Antioch,  and  Palmyra,  may  be  allowed  to  despise  a 
place  like  this.  There  are  but  two  things  that  impress 
the  beholder — the  Palace  of  Sapor,  and  the  Temple  of 
Mithras,  near  it.  These  truly  would  be  noted  even 
in  Palmyra.  Not  that  in  the  building  any  rule  or  order 
of  art  is  observed,  but  that  the  congregation  of  strange 
and  fantastic  trickery — some  whereof,  it  cannot  be 
gainsaid,  is  of  rare  beauty — is  so  vast  that  one  is 
pleased  with  it  as  he  is  with  the  remembrance  of  the 
wonderful  combinations  of  a  dream. 

Soon  as  we  entered  the  gates  of  the  city,  I  turned  to 
the  woman  whom  we  brought  from  the  desert,  and  who 
rode  the  camel  with  Hadad,  and  said  to  her:  'First 
of  all,  Hagar,  we  take  thee  to  those  who  are  of  thy 
kindred,  or  to  thy  friends,  and  well  may  they  bless  the 
good  Providence  of  God  that  they  see  thee.  'T  was  a 
foul  deed  of  thy  husband,  after  the  manner  of  the  patri- 
VOL.  i.  19* 


218  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

arch,  to  leave  thee  and  thy  little  one  to  perish  on  the 
burning  sands  of  the  desert.' 

'  Good  Jew,'  she  replied,  '  my  name  is  not  Hagar, 
nor  did  my  husband  leave  me  willingly.  I  tell  thee 
we  were  set  upon  by  robbers,  and  Hassan,  my  poor 
husband,  was  either  killed,  or  carried  away  no  one  can 
tell  whither.' 

'  No  matter — names  are  of  little  moment.  To  me, 
thou  art  Hagar,  and  thy  little  one  here  is  Ishmael — 
and  if  thou  wilt,  Ishmael  shall  be  mine.  I  will  take 
him  and  rear  him  as  mine — he  shall  be  rich — and 
thou  shalt  be  rich,  and  dwell  where  thou  wilt.'  The 
child,  Roman,  had  wound  itself  all  around  my  heart. 
He  was  of  three  years  or  more,  and,  feature  for  feature, 
answered  to  the  youngest  of  my  own,  long  since  lost, 
and  now  in  Abraham's  bosom.  .  But  it  was  not  to  be  as 
I  wished.  All  the  mother  rushed  into  the  face  of  the 
woman. 

*  Good  Jew,'  she  cried,  *  the  God  of  Heaven  will 
reward  thee  for  thy  mercy  shown  to  us  ;  but  hadst  thou 
saved  my  life  a  thousand  times,  I  could  not  pay  thee 
with  my  child.  I  am  poor,  and  have  nought  to  give 
thee  but  my  thanks.' 

' 1  will  see  thee  again,'  said  I  to  the  widow  of  Has 
san,  as  we  set  her  down  in  the  street  where  her  kins 
folk  dwelt, '  if  thou  wilt  allow  me.  Receive  thy  child.' 

The  child  smiled  as  I  kissed  him  and  gave  him 
again  to  his  mother.  It  was  the  smile  of  Joseph.  I 
could  at  that  moment  almost  myself  have  become  a 
robber  of  the  desert,  and  taken  what  the  others  had  left. 

We  here  parted,  and  Hadad  and  myself  bent  our 
way  to  the  house  of  Levi,  a  merchant  well  known  to 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  219 

Hadad,  and  who,  he  assured  me,  would  gladly  receive 
us.  His  shop,  as  we  entered  it,  seemed  well  stored 
with  the  richest  goods,  hut  the  building  of  which  it 
made  a  part  promised  not  very  ample  lodgings.  But 
the  hospitable  welcome  of  the  aged  Levi  promised 
better. 

1  Welcome  every  true  son  of  Israel,'  said  he,  as  we 
drew  near  where  in  a  remoter  part  of  the  large  apart 
ment  he  sat  busy  at  his  books  of  account.  '  Make 
yourselves  at  home  beneath  the  roof  of  Levi.  Follow 
me  and  find  more  private  quarters.' 

So,  leaving  Hadad  and  the  camels  to  the  care  of 
those  whom  our  host  summoned,  I  followed  him  as 
desired  to  another  part  of  the  dwelling.  It  now  seemed " 
spacious  enough.  After  winding  about  among  narrow 
and  dark  passages,  we  at  length  came  to  large  and 
well-furnished  rooms,  apparently  quite  remote  from  the 
shop,  and  far  removed  from  the  street.  Here  we  seated 
ourselves,  and  I  unfolded  to  Levi  the  nature  of  my 
business.  He  listened,  wondered,  smiled,  shook  his 
head,  and  made  a  thousand  contrary  movements  and 
signs.  When  I  had  done,  he  comforted  and  instructed 
me  after  this  manner. 

1  Something  like  a  fool's  errand.  Yet  the  pay  is 
good — that  cannot  be  doubted.  It  had  been  better,  I 
think,  for  thee  to  have  followed  thy  trade  in  Palmyra 
or  Ctesiphon.  Yet  perhaps  this  may  turn  out  well. 
The  promised  sum  is  large.  Who  can  tell  ?  'T  is 
worth  a  risk.  Yet  if,  in  taking  the  risk,  one  loses  his 
head,  it  were  a  mad  enterprise.  Verily,  I  can  say 
nothing  but  that  time  will  disclose  it,  and  the  event 
prove  it.  A  thing  is  not  seen  all  at  once,  and  the  eye 


220  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

cannot  at  once  reach  every  part  of  a  ball.  Wait  with 
patience,  and  God  shall  show  it.' 

I  saw  that  nothing  was  to  be  got  from  this  prophet. 
Yet  perhaps  he  knew  facts.  So  I  asked  him  of  Hor- 
misdas  and  Sapor,  and  if  he  knew  aught  of  the  Roman 
Piso,  held  a  strict  prisoner  in  Ecbatana. 

'  A  prisoner,  say  you  ?'  he  replied,  beginning  at  the 
end  of  my  question ;  '  how  can  a  Persian  Satrap  be 
called  a  prisoner  ?  He  dwells  in  the  palace  of  Hor- 
misdas,  and  when  seen  abroad,  rides  upon  a  horse 
whose  harness  is  jewelled  like  the  prince's,  and  his 
dress  moreover  is  of  the  richest  stuffs,  and  altogether 
Persian.  'T  is  forgotten  by  most  that -he  is  any  other 
than  a  native  Persian.' 

*  Is  he  ever  seen  to  ride  alone  ? '  I  asked. 

'  Why  the  question  ?  I  know  not.  Who  should 
know  who  rides  alone  and  who  in  company  ?  When 
I  have  seen  him,  it  has  always  been  in  the  train  of 
others.' 

'  I  thought  as  much.  Doubtless  he  goes  abroad  well 
guarded.  His  companions,  Levi,  I  doubt  are  little 
better  than  jailers  ?' 

Levi  opened  his  eyes,  but  it  was  to  no  purpose ;  they 
can  see  no  other  thing  clearly,  save  a  Persian  coin. 

I  found,  upon  further  inquiry,  that  it  was  even  as  I 
had  supposed  and  had  heard.  Calpurnius  lives  in  the 
palace  of  Hormisdas,  and  is  his  chosen  companion  and 
friend,  but  is  allowed  by  Sapor  no  liberty  of  movement, 
and  wherever  he  goes  is  attended  by  persons  appointed 
to  guard  him.  Nor  have  the  many  years  that  he  has 
been  here  caused  this  vigilance  in  any  degree  to  relax. 
All  outward  honor  is  shown  him,  except  by  the  king, 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  221 

who,  had  he  not,  in  the  time  of  Valerian,  passed  his 
word  to  the  prince  his  son,  and  fully  surrendered  Piso 
into  his  hands,  would,  it  is  believed,  even  now  use  him 
as  he  did  the  unhappy  emperor.  But  he  is  safe  in  the 
keeping  of  the  prince.  Arid  the  guard  ahout  him,  it  is 
my  present  suspicion,  is  as  much  to  defend  him  against 
any  sudden  freak  of  the  king  or  his  satellites,  as  it  is  to 
prevent  his  escape.  The  least  that  could  happen  to 
any  Roman  falling  into  Sapor's  power  would  be  to  be 
flayed  alive.  My  safety  will  lie  in  my  being  known 
only  as  a  Jew,  not  as  a  dweller  in  Rome. 

And  now,  Roman,  thou  desirest  to  know  in  what 
manner  I  mean  to  accomplish  the  deliverance  of  thy 
brother.  It  is  thus.  Commend  the  cunning  of  it.  My 
Ethiopian  slave  is  then — I  must  tell  thee  to  thine 
amazement — no  Ethiopian  and  no  slave  !  He  is  one 
of  my  own  tribe  whom  I  have  many  times  employed  in 
difficult  affairs,  and  having  often  conferred  upon  him 
the  most  essential  favors,  have  bound  him  to  my  will. 
Him  I  am  to  leave  here,  being  first  cleansed  of  the  deep 
dye  with  which  by  my  art — and  what  art  is  it  I  am 
not  familiar  with? — I  have  stained  his  skin  to  the 
darkest  hue  of  the  African,  and  then  in  his  place,  and 
stained  to  the  same  hue,  am  I  to  take  thy  brother,  and 
so  with  security  and  in  broad  day  walk  through  the 
gates  of  Ecbatana.  Is  it  to  be  thought  of  that  I  should 
fail  ?  All  will  rest  with  Calpurnius.  If,  in  the  first 
place,  he  shall  be  willing  to  return,  and  then,  in  the 
next  place,  shall  consent  to"  submit  to  this  momentary 
and  only  apparent  degradation,  the  issue  is  as  certain 
to  be  happy,  as  the  means  shall  be  tried.  My  head 
never  set  with  a  sense  of  more  security  upon  my 


222  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

shoulders,  than  now,  while  planning  and  putting  into 
execution  this  Carthaginian  plot. 

It  was  first  of  all  necessary  that  I  should  become  ac 
quainted  with  the  city,  with  the  situation  and  structure 
of  the  palace  of  Hormisdas,  and  make  myself  known 
in  the  streets  as  one  of  those  way-side  merchants  whom 
all  abuse,  yet  whom  all  are  glad  to  trade  with.  So, 
with  my  slave  bending  under  the  burden  of  those  arti 
cles  of  use  or  luxury  which  I  thought  would  be  most 
attractive,  we  set  forth  into  the  midst  of  the  busy  streets, 
seeking  a  market  for  our  commodities.  Several  days 
were  passed  in  this  manner,  returning  each  night  to 
lodge  in  the  house  of  the  rich  and  foolish,  but  hospi 
table  Levi. 

While  thus  employed,  I  frequently  saw  Calpurnius, 
in  company  with  the  prince  or  other  nobles,  either  riding 
in  state  through  the  streets  of  the  city,  or  else  setting 
out  upon  excursions  of  pleasure  beyond  the  walls.  But 
my  chief  object  was  to  observe  well  the  palace  of  the 
prince,  and  learn  the  particular  part  of  it  inhabited  by 
the  Roman,  and  how  and  where  it  was  his  custom  to 
pass  his  time.  This  it  was  not  difficult  to  do.  The 
palace  of  the  prince  I  found  to  occupy  a  square  of  the 
city  not  far  from  that  of  the  king  his  father.  It  is  of 
vast  extent,  but  of  a  desolate  aspect,  from  the  fewness 
of  its  inhabitants  and  the  jealousy  with  which  the 
prince  and  all  his  movements  are  watched  by  the  wicked 
and  now  superannuated  Sapor.  Every  day  I  dili 
gently  paced  the  streets  upon  which  it  stands.  I  at 
first  went  without  Hadad,  that  I  might  observe  with 
the  more  leisure.  I  at  length  discovered  the  apart 
ments  used  by  Calpurnius,  and  learned  that  it  was  his 


ZE  N  0  B I  A 


223 


custom,  when  not  absent  from  the  palace  upon  some 
enterprise  of  pleasure,  to  refresh  himself  by  breathing 
the  air,  and  pacing  to  and  fro  upon  a  gallery  of  light 
Persian  architecture,  which  borders  immediately  upon 
one  of  the  four  streets  that  bounds  the  palace.  This 
gallery  was  not  so  high  above  the  street  but  what  the 
voice  could  easily  reach  those  who  were  walking 
there,  and  that  without  greatly  increasing  its  natural 
tone.  From  pillar  to  pillar  there  ran  along  a  low 
lattice-work  of  fanciful  device,  upon  which  it  was  the 
usage  of  Calpurnius,  and  those  who  were  with  him, 
often  to  lean  and  idly  watch  the  movements  of  the 
passengers  below.  Here,  I  found,  must  be  my  place  of 
audience.  Here  I  must  draw  his  attention,  and  make 
myself  known  to  him.  For  an  opportunity  to  do  this, 
I  saw  at  once  I  might  be  obliged  to  wait  long,  for 
scarce  ever  was  Calpurnius  there,  but  Hormisdas,  or 
some  one  of  the  nobles,  was  with  him  ;  or  if  he  was 
alone,  yet  the  street  was  so  thronged  that  it  must  be 
difficult  to  obtain  a  hearing. 

Having  learned  these  things,  I  then  came  forth,  with 
Hadad  bearing  my  merchandise,  I  myself  going  before 
him  as  owner  and  crier.  Many  times  did  I  pass  and 
repass  the  gallery  of  Calpurnius  to  no  purpose — he 
either  not  being  there,  or  attended  closely  by  others,  or 
wrapped  in  thought  so  that  my  cries  could  not  arouse 
him.  It  was  clear  to  me  that  I  must  make  some  bold 
attempt.  He  was  one  day  standing  at  the  lattice-work 
already  named,  alone,  and  looking  at  the  passers  by. 
Seeing  him  there  as  I  entered  the  street,  I  made 
directly  toward  the  spot,  crying  in  the  loudest  tone  my 
goods ;  and  notwithstanding  the  numbers  who  were  on 


224  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

their  way  along  the  street,  I  addressed  myself  boldly 
to  him,  purposely  mistaking  him  for  Hormisdas. 
'  Prince,'  said  I, '  buy  a  little,  if  it  please  you,  of  a  poor 
Jew,  who  has  lately  traversed  the  desert  to  serve  you. 
I  have  in  these  panniers  wonders  from  all  parts  of  the 
world.  There  is  not  a  city  famous  for  its  art  in  any 
rare  and  curious  work,  that  is  not  represented  here. 
Kings,  queens,  and  princes,  have  not  disdained  to  pur 
chase  of  me.  The  great  Sapor  at  Ctesiphon  has  of  me 
procured  some  of  his  largest  diamonds.  I  have  sold  to 
Claudius,  and  Zenobia,  and  half  the  nobility  of  Pal 
myra.  Dost  thou  see,  prince,  the  glory  of  this  assort 
ment  of  diamonds  ?  Look  !  How  would  they  become 
thy  finger,  thy  hunting  cap,  or  thy  sandals  ? ' 

Thy  brother  listened  to  me  with  unmoved  counte 
nance  and  folded  arms,  receiving  passively  whatever 
I  was  pleased  to  say.  When  I  paused,  he  said,  in  a 
tone  of  sadness,  though  of  affected  pleasantry  : 

'Jew,  I  am  the  worst  subject  for  thee  in  all  Ecbatana. 
I  am  a  man  without  wants.  I  do  nothing  but  live,  and 
I  have  nothing  to  do  to  live.' 

*  Now,'  I  replied,  '  is  it  time  for  me  to  die,  having 
seen  the  chief  wonder  of  the  world — a  man  without 
wants.' 

'There  is  a  greater  yet,'  said  he  smiling;  'thou 
must  live  on.' 

'  And  what  is  that  ? ' 

'  A  woman.' 

'  Thou  hast  me.  But  I  can  easily  compound  with 
life.  I  have  many  wants,  yet  I  love  it.  I  was  but  a 
day  or  two  since  buried  alive  under  the  burning  sands 
of  the  desert,  and  lost  there  a  dromedary  worth — if  a 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  225 

farthing — four  hundred  aurelians,  for  which  thou 
mayest  have  him.  Yet  I  love  to  live,  and  take  the 
chances  of  the  world  as  they  turn  up.  Here  now  have 
I  all  the  way  consoled  myself  with  the  thought  of  what 
I  might  sell  to  the  great  Prince  Hormisdas,  and  thou 
seest  my  reward.  Still  I  cry  my  goods  with  the  same 
zeal.  But  surely  thou  wantest  something?  I  have 
jewels  from  Rome — of  the  latest  fashion.' 

'  I  want  nothing  from  Rome.' 

Seeing  no  one  was  near,  and  lowering  my  voice,  I 
said,  '  Thou  wantest  nothing  from  Rome  ?  What 
wouldst  thou  give,  Roman,  for  news  from  Rome?' 

'  News  from  Rome?  Not  an  oholus.  How  knowest 
thou  me  to  be  a  Roman  ?  But  now,  I  was  the  prince 
Hormisdas.' 

'  I  have  seen  thee  many  times,  and  know  thee  well, 
as  the  Roman  Piso.  I  have  news  for  thee.' 

*  The  prince  approaches  ! '  said  Piso,  in  a  hurried 
manner.  '  Begone,  but  come  again  at  the  hour  of  dusk, 
and  I  shall  be  alone,  and  will  have  thee  admitted  with 
in  the  gates  of  the  palace.' 

The  fates  ordering  it  so,  I  was  obliged  to  depart,  and 
trust  again  to  the  future  for  such  chances  of  renewing 
my  conversation  with  him  as  it  might  have  to  offer. 
Here  let  me  tell  thee,  Lucius  Piso,  that  not  having  seen 
thy  brother,  thou  hast  never  seen  a  man.  He  is  one 
with  every  mark  of  the  noblest  manhood.  His  air  is 
that  of  a  born  prince  of  the  highest  bearing,  yet  free 
and  unrestrained.  The  beauty  of  his  countenance  is 
beyond  that  of  any  other  I  have  ever  seen,  yet  is  it  a 
manly  beauty.  A  line  of  dark  short  hair  covers  his 
upper  lip.  His  eyes  are  large  and  dark,  yet  soft  in  theii 
VOL.  i.  20 


226  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

general  expression.  He  seems  of  a  melancholy  and 
thoughtful  temper,  and  sometimes  in  his  words  there 
is  an  inexpressible  bitterness.  Yet  it  has  appeared  to 
me,  that  his  nature  is  gentle,  and  that  the  other  charac 
ter  is  one  accidental  or  assumed.  If  I  should  compare 
him  with  any  one  for  beauty,  it  would  be,  Roman, 
not  with  thee — though  I  see  him  and  thee  to  be  of  the 
same  stock — but  with  the  princess  Julia.  Were  her 
beauty  only  made  masculine,  she  would  then  be  Cal- 
purnius  ;  or  were  his  made  feminine,  he  would  then 
be  Julia.  But  this  fancy  might  not  strike  others.  His 
features  and  air  are  not  so  much  Roman  as  oriental— r 
thine  are  purely  Roman.  It  may  .be  that  costume 
alone  imparts  this  Eastern  aspect  to  the  countenance 
and  the  form — for  his  dress  is  wholly  that  of  a  Per 
sian. 

As  I  passed  into  the  dwelling  of  my  host,  entering  it 
as  at  first  by  the  way  of  the  shop,  its  owner  was  hold 
ing  a  conversation  of  business  with  some  of  his 
customers.  How  does  money  seem  native  to  the 
palm  of  some  men !  They  have  but  to  open  it,  and 
straight  it  is  lined  with  gold.  If  they  blunder,  it  is 
into  more  wealth.  With  wit  scarce  sufficient  to  make 
it  clear  to  another  that  they  are  properly  men,  do 
they  manage  to  make  themselves  the  very  chief  of 
all,  by  reason  of  the  riches  they  heap  up — which  ever 
have  claimed  and  received,  and  ever  will,  the  homage 
of  the  world.  Levi  is  of  this  sort.  The  meanness 
of  his  understanding  words  cannot  express — :or  no 
words  but  his  own.  He  was  talking  after  this  manner, 
as  I  entered,  to  one  who  seemed  to  hold  him  in  utmost 
reverence : 


ZEN  OBI  A.  227 

•  The  thing  is  so — the  thing  is  so.  If  't  were  other 
wise  't  is  most  clear  it  would  not  be  the  same.  Ha ! 
The  price  may  change.  Who  can  say  ?  The  world 
is  full  of  change.  But  it  cannot  be  less,  and  leave  a 
gain  to  the  seller — unless  indeed,  circumstances  alter 
ing,  the  profit  should  still  be  the  same.  But  who  can 
understand  the  future  ?  An  hour  is  more  than  I  can 
comprehend.  He  that  deals  well  with  the  present,  is 
it  not  he,  Holy  Abraham !  who  best  secures  the  passing 
time  ?  It  cannot  be  denied  ! ' 

As  the  oracle  ended,  the  Persian  bowed  low,  say 
ing: 

'  The  wisdom  of  it  is  clearer  than  the  light.  I  shall 
so  report  to  the  prince.'  Seeing  me,  he,  in  his  friendly 
way,  inquired  after  my  success,  shaking  his  head  at 
what  he  is  pleased  to  regard  my  mad  enterprise.  '  Bet 
ter  not  meddle  nor  make  in  such  matters.  With  thy 
pack  upon  thy  back,  and  exercising  diligence,  thou 
wouldst  become  rich  here  in  the  streets  of  Ecbatana. 
And  for  what  else  shouldst  thou  care  ?  'T  is  only 
money  that  remains  the  same  in  the  midst  of  change. 
All  agree  in  the  value  they  place  upon  this,  while  they 
agree  in  nothing  else.  Who  can  remember  a  differ 
ence  here  ?  Leave  thy  project,  Isaac,  which  thou  must 
have  undertaken  half  for  love,  and  I  will  make  thee  a 
great  man  in  Ecbatana.'  Little  does  he  know  of  Isaac, 
and  thou  I  believe  as  little. 

No  sooner  had  the  god  of  these  idolaters  gone  down 
to  his  rest,  and  the  friendly  twilight  come,  than  I  set 
forth  for  the  palace  of  Hormisdas.  Upon  coming  be 
neath  the  gallery,  I  waited  not  long  before  thy  brother 
appeared,  and  pointed  out  the  way  in  which,  through  a 


228  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  • 

low  and  private  entrance  at  a  remote  spot,  I  might 
reach  an  apartment  where  I  should  find  him.  Fol 
lowing  his  directions,  and  accompanied  by  Hadad,  I 
was  received,  at  the  specified  place,  by  a  slave  of  the 
palace,  who  conducted  me  to  Piso's  presence.  It  was 
in  one  of  his  more  private  apartments,  but  still  sumptu 
ously  set  out  with  every  article  of  Persian  luxury,  in 
which  I  found  myself  once  more  in  company  with  thy 
brother,  and  where  I  ordered  Hadad  to  display  for  his 
entertainment  the  most  curious  and  costly  of  the  con 
tents  of  his  pack. 

'  I  marvel  chiefly,  Roman,'  I  began  by  saying,  '  at 
the  ease  with  which  I  obtain  an  entrance  into  the 
palace,  and  into  thine  own  apartment.  I  had  thought 
this  to  have  been  attended  with  both  difficulty  and 
danger.' 

'  It  is  not  without  danger,'  he  replied ;  c  thou  mayst 
lose  thy  head  for  this  adventure.  But  this  risk  I  sup 
pose  thee  to  have  weighed.  Every  one  in  Ecbatana 
knows  Sapor  and  me — with  what  jealousy  I  am 
guarded— and  that  the  king  will  not  flinch  to  keep  his 
word,  and  take  off  any  head  that  meddles.  But  fear 
not.  The  king  is  old  and  weak,  and  though  cruel  as 
ever,  forgets  me  as  every  thing  else.  Besides,  it  is 
found  that  I  am  so  good  a  Persian,  that  all  strictness 
in  the  watch  has  long  since  ceased.  Half  Ecbatana 
believe  me  more  a  Persian  than  a  Roman — and  in 
truth  they  are  right.' 

'  Thou  hast  not,  Roman,  forgotten  thy  country ! 
Surely  thou  hast  not,  though  suffering  captivity,  ceased 
to  love  and  long  for  thy  native  land.  The  Jew  never 
forgets  his.  He  lives  indeed  in  every  corner  and  hole 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  229 

of  the  earth,  but  ever  in  the  hope — 't  is  this  that  keeps 
his  life — either  himself  or  through  his  children  to  dwell 
once  more  within  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  or  among  the 
hills  and  valleys  of  Judea.' 

'  Where  we  are  not  loved  nor  remembered,  we  cannot 
love,'  he  bitterly  replied.  '  I  loved  Rome  once,  more 
than  I  loved  parent  or  kindred.  The  greatness  and 
glory  of  Rome  were  to  me  infinitely  more  than, my 
own.  For  her — in  my  beardless  youth — I  was  ready 
to  lay  down  my  life  at  any  moment.  Nay,  when  the 
trial  came,  and  the  good  Valerian  set  forth  to  redeem 
the  East  from  the  encroaching  power  of  Persia,  I  was 
not  found  wanting,  but  abandoned  a  home,  than  which 
there  was  not  a  prouder  nor  happier  within  the  walls 
of  Rome,  to  take  my  chance  with  the  emperor  and  my 
noble  father.  The  issue  thou  knowest.  How  has 
Rome  remembered  me,  and  the  brave  legions  that  with 
me  fell  into  the  hands  of  these  fierce  barbarians  ? 
Even  as  Gallienus  the  son  seemed  to  rejoice  in  the 
captivity  of  his  parent,  so  has  Rome  the  mother  seemed 
to  rejoice  in  the  captivity  of  her  children.  Not  an  arm 
has  she  lifted,  not  a  finger  has  she  moved,  to  lighten 
the  chains  of  our  bondage,  or  rescue  us  from  this  thral 
dom.  Rome  is  no  longer  my  country.' 

1  Consider,  Roman,'  I  replied,  £  in  extenuation  of  thy 
country's  fault,  who  it  was  that  succeeded  the  good 
Valerian — then  the  brief  reign  of  virtuous  Claudius, 
who  died  ere  a  single  purpose  had  time  to  ripen — and 
the  hard  task  that  has  tied  the  hands  of  Aurelian  on 
the  borders  of  Gaul  and  Germany.  Have  patience.' 

'  Dost  thou  not  blush,  old  man,'  he  said,  '  with  that 
long  gray  beard  of  thine,  and  thy  back  bent  with  years, 
VOL.  i.  20* 


230  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

to  stand  there  the  apologist  of  crime  ?  If  ingratitude 
and  heartlessness  are  to  be  defended,  and  numbered 
among  the  virtues,  the  reign  of  Arimanes  has  indeed 
begun.  Such  is  not  the  lesson,  Jew,  thy  sacred  books 
have  taught  thee.  But  a  truce  with  this  !  Thy  last 
words  this  morning  were,  that  thou  hadst  news  for  me. 
For  Roman  news  I  care  not,  nor  will  hear.  If  thou 
canst  tell  me  aught  of  family  and  friends,  say  on — 
although — 0  gods,  that  it  should  be  so  ! — even  they 
seem  to  share  the  guilt  of  all.  How  many  messengers 
have  I  bribed  with  gold,  more  than  thou  hast  ever  seen, 
Jew,  to  bear  my  letters  to  Rome,  and  never  a  word  has 
been  returned  of  good  or  evil.  Canst  thou  tell  me 
any  thing  of  Portia  my  mother  ?  or  of  Lucius  Piso 
my  brother  ?  Live  they  ? ' 

'Do  I  not  know  them  well?'  I  replied:  'who  that 
dwells  in  Rome  knows  not  the  noble  Portia?  She 
lives  yet ;  and  long  may  she  live,  the  friend  of  all ! 
To  Jew,  and  even  to  Nazarene,  she  is  good,  even  as  to 
her  own.  Never  did  age,  or  want,  or  helplessness,  ask 
of  her  in  vain.  Years  have  not  stopped  the  fountains 
of  her  tears,  nor  chilled  a  single  affection  of  her  heart. 
And  dost  thou  think  that  while  she  remembers  the  out 
cast  Jew,  and  the  despised  Nazarene,  she  forgets  her  own 
offspring  ?  Where  is  thy  heart,  Roman,  to  suppose  it  ? 
Have  I  not  heard  her,  many  a  time,  when  I  have  been 
to  solicit  alms  for  some  poor  unfortunate  of  my  tribe, 
run  back  upon  the  line  of  years,  and  speak  of  the  wars 
of  Valerian,  of  the  day  when  she  parted  from  her  great 
husband,  and  her  two  sons,  and  of  that  dark  day  too 
\v!ion  the  news  came  that  they  were  all  fast  in  the 
rhtch  of  that  foul  barbarian,  Sapor — and  stood  a  silent 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  231 

and  astonished  witness  of  a  love,  such  as  I  never  saw 
in  any  other,  and  which  seemed  so  great  as  to  be  a 
necessary  seed  of  death  to  her  frail  and  shattered 
frame  ?  Of  thee  especially  have  I  heard  her  descant 
as  mothers  will,  and  tell  one  after  another  of  all  thy 
beauties,  nay  and  of  the  virtues  which  bound  her  to 
thee  so,  and  of  her  trust  so  long  cherished,  that  thou, 
more  than  either  of  her  other  sons,  wouldst  live  to  sus 
tain,  and  even  bear  up  higher,  the  name  of  Piso.' 

1  My  noble  mother  !  was  it  so  indeed  ? ' 

'  How  should  it  be  otherwise  ?  Is  it  any  thing  that 
thou  hast  not  heard  from  her  ?  Was  she  to  tempt 
herself  the  horrors  of  a  Persian  journey?  Was  she. 
in  her  age,  to  seek  thee  over  the  sands  of  Asia  ?  or 
thy  brother  ?  Especially  when  it  was  held  in  Rome 
not  more  certain  that  Valerian  was  dead,  than  that  thy 
father  and  thou  wert  also.  The  same  messengers 
related  both  events.  No  other  news  ever  came  from 
Ctesiphon.  Was  not  one  event  as  likely  as  the  other? 
Did  not  both  rest  upon  the  same  authority  ?  In  the 
same  commemorative  acts  of  the  Senate  were  thy  name, 
thy  father's,  thy  brother's,  and  the  emperor's,  with 
others  who  were  also  believed  to  have  perished.  Was 
Portia  alone,  of  all  Rome,  to  give  the  lie  to  universal 
fame  ?  As  for  thy  messengers,  art  thou  so  foolish  as 
to  believe  that  one  ever  crossed  the  desert,  or  escaped 
the  meshes  set  for  him  by  the  jealous  and  malignant 
Sapor  ? ' 

'  It  is  enough,  Jew — say  no  more.' 

'  But  I  have  much  more  to  say,  or  else  be  false  to 
those  who  sent  me.' 

'  Sent  thee  ?    who  sent  thee  ?     Speak !    do  Portia 


232  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

then,  and  Lucius,  know  that  I  live  ?  And  art  thou 
here  a  messenger  from  them  ? ' 

'  It  is  even  so.' 

Thy  brother  was  greatly  moved.  At  first  he  made 
as  though  he  would  have  embraced  me,  but  turned  and 
paced  with  quick  and  agitated  steps  the  room. 

I  then  related  to  him  how  we  had  in  Rome  first 
heard  through  that  soldier  a  rumor  of  his  being  yet 
alive — but  at  the  same  time,  that  he  had  renounced 
his  country  and  become  a  Persian  Satrap.  I  told  him 
of  thy  faith  in  him  and  of  Portia's  that  he  would  never 
prove  a  recreant  to  his  country — of  thy  instant  journey 
to  Palmyra,  with  purpose  to  cross  the  desert  thyself 
and  risk  all  the  dangers  of  Ecbatana  to  accomplish  his 
deliverance,  and  of  the  counsel  of  Gracchus,  which 
caused  thee  to  make  me  a  substitute. 

*  Lucius  then,'  he  at  length  said,  approaching  me, 
*  is  in  Palmyra  ?  Is  it  so  ?' 

'  It  is,'  I  said.  '  At  least  I  left  him  there.  He  was 
to  remain  there,  and  learn  the  issue  of  my  attempt. 
If  I  perished,  or  failed  in  the  endeavor  to  obtain  thy 
freedom,  then  was  it  his  purpose  himself  to  try — unless 
in  the  mean  time  he  should  learn  through  me,  or 
otherwise,  that  thou  wert  too  wedded  -to  -Persia  and  to 
Persian  customs,  to  consent  to  change  them  for  Rome 
and  Roman  ways.' 

'  Jew,  thou  seest  that  now  I  hesitate.  Thou  hast 
roused  all  the  son,  the  brother,  and  something  of  the 
Roman  within  me.  I  am  drawn  many  ways.  To 
Rome  I  will  never  return.  Toward  her,  a  resentment 
burns  deep  within,  which  I  know  will  close  only  with 
life  itself.  But  toward  Palmyra,  my  heart  yearns 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  233 

T  was  Zenobia  alone  of  all  the  world  that  ever  moved 
for  the  rescue  of  Valerian  :  't  was  she  alone  of  all  the 
world,  who  pitied  our  sorrows,  and  though  she  could 
not  heal,  avenged  them.  Her  image  has  been  a  dear 
source  of  consolation  in  this  long  captivity.  I  have 
eagerly  sought  for  all  that  could  be  obtained  concerning 
her  character,  her  acts,  her  policy,  and  the  state  of  her 
affairs.  And  often  have  I  thought  to  slip  my  bonds 
and  throw  myself  at  her  feet,  to  serve  with  her,  if  need 
should  be,  either  against  Rome  or  Persia.  But  habit 
has  prevailed,  and  the  generous  friendship  of  Hormis- 
das,  to  keep  me  here.  And  why  should  I  change  this 
not  unpleasing  certainty  for  the  doubtful  future  that 
must  await  me  in  Palmyra  ?  Here  I  am  in  the  very 
lap  of  luxury.  I  am,  as  I  have  said  to  thee,  a  man 
without  wants.  All  countries,  and  climates,  and  seas, 
and  arts,  minister  to  my  pleasure.  The  learning  of 
ancient  and  of  modern  times,  you  see  there  piled  upon 
shelves,  to  entertain  my  leisure,  or  task  my  hours  of 
study.  I  am  without  care — without  the  necessity  of 
toil — with  a  palace,  its  slaves,  and,I  may  add, its  prince, 
at  my  command.  And  beyond  all  this  present  reality, 
there  is  the  prospect  of  every  thing  else  that  Persia 
contains,  upon  the  death  of  Sapor,  which,  in  the  course 
of  nature,  cannot  be  far  off,  if  violence  do  not  anticipate 
that  hour.  Yet  what  thou  now  tellest  me,  renews  my 
desire  of  change.  Lucius  is  in  Palmyra — perhaps  he 
would  dwell  there.  'T  is  the  home,  I  learn,  of  many 
noble  Romans.  Who  can  say  that  Portia  might  not 
come  and  complete  our  happiness?' 

And  saying  these  things,  he  began  to  muse.     He 
again  paced  with  folded  arms  the  long  apartment.     I 


234  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

saw  that  he  was  still  distracted  by  doubts.  I  knew  of 
but  one  thing-  more  to  say,  by  which  to  work  upon  his 
passionate  nature.  I  resolved  to  say  it,  though  I  know 
not  what  thou  wilt  think  of  it,  nor  what  the  event  may 
be.  There  was,  thou  knowest,  ere  I  left  Palmyra, 
rumor  of  war  between  Palmyra  and  Rome.  Barely  to 
name  this,  it  seemed  to  me,  would  be  on  the  instant  to 
fix  his  wavering  mind.  I  could  not  withstand  the 
temptation.  But,  Piso  once  in  Palmyra,  and  sure  I 
am  I  shall  be  forgiven.  I  began  again  thus. 

*  Gracchus  too,  Roman ;  dost  thou  not  remember  the 
family  of  Gracchus  ?     He  also  is  in  Palmyra.' 

'  Ay,  I  remember  him  well.  A  man  of  true  nobility 
— now  one  of  the  Queen's  chief  advisers,  and  head  of 
the  Senate.  He  had  a  daughter  too,  who,  her  mother 
dying  young,  was  committed  to  the  care  of  Portia,  and 
was  as  a  sister.  Does  she  live  ? — and  dwells  she  in 
Palmyra  ? ' 

*  She  lives,  and  beneath  her  father's  roof.     Fame 
speaks  loudly  of  her  beauty  and  her  wit,  and  more 
loudly  still  of  her  young  wisdom,  and  influence  with 
the  Queen.     Her  spirit  is  the  counterpart  of  Zenobia's. 
She  is,  notwithstanding  her  long  Roman  nurture,  a 
Palmyrene  of  the  truest  stamp.     And  ever  since  there 
have  been  these  rumors  of  a  war  with  Rome' 

'  What  sayst  thou  ?  What  is  that  ?  War  with 
Rome  ?  Did  I  hear  aright  ? ' 

'  Verily  thou  didst.  'T  was  the  current  report  when 
I  left  Palmyra.  It  came  both  by  the  way  of  Antioch 
and  Alexandria.  Nothing  was  talked  of  else.  Ever 
since,  I  say — ' 

'  Why  hast  thou  not  said  this  before  ?  How  shall  I 
believe  thee  ? ' 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  235 

1 1  said  it  not  before,  simply  because  I  thought  not 
of  it.  How  was  I  to  know  what  thou  most  desiredst  to 
hear  ?  I  can  give  thee  no  other  ground  of  belief  than 
common  rumor.  If  my  own  opinion  will  weigh  aught, 
I  may  add,  that  for  myself  I  have  not  a  doubt  that  the 
report  springs  from  truth.  When  at  Rome,  it  was 
commonly  spoken  of,  and  by  those  too  whom  I  knew 
to  be  near  the  emperor,  that  Aurelian  felt  himself  ag 
grieved  and  insulted,  that  a  woman  should  hold  under 
her  dominion  territories  that  once  belonged  to  Rome, 
and  who  had  wrested  them  from  Rome  by  defeat  of 
Roman  generals — and  had  sworn  to  restore  the  empire 
in  the  East  as  well  as  West,  to  its  ancient  bounds. 
At  Palmyra  too  I  found  those  who  were  of  deep  intel 
ligence  in  the  politics  of  the  times,  who  felt  sure  of 
nothing  more  than  that,  what  with  the  pride  of  Zenobia 
and  the  ambition  of  Aurelian,  war  was  inevitable.  I 
tell  thee  these  things  as  they  fell  upon  my  ear.  Before 
this,  as  1  think,  it  is  most  likely  that  war  may  have 
broken  out  between  the  two  nations.' 

'  Thou  hast  now  spoken,  Jew,'  said  Calpurnius. 
'  Hadst  thou  said  these  things  at  first,  thou  hadst  spared 
me  much  tormenting  doubt.  My  mind  is  now  bent 
and  determined  upon  flight.  This  it  will  not  be  difficult, 
I  think,  to  accomplish.  But  what  is  thy  plan  ? — for  I 
suppose,  coining  upon  this  errand,  thou  hast  one  well 
digested.  But  remember  now,  as  I  have  already 
warned  thee,  that  thy  head  will  answer  for  any  failure : 
detection  will  be  death.' 

'  Death  is  little  to  a  Jew,  who  in  dying  dies  for  his 
country.  And  such  would  be  my  death.  Whether  I 
live  or  die,  •  t  is  for  Jerusalem.  Thy  brother  rewards 


236  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

me  largely  for  this  journey,  and  these  dangers  I  en 
counter  ;  and  if  I  perish,  the  double  of  the  whole  sum 
agreed  upon  is  to  be  paid  according  to  certain  directions 
left  with  him.  I  would  rather  live  ;  but  I  shall  not 
shrink  from  death.  But,  Piso,  detection  shall  not 
ensue.  I  have  not  lived  to  this  age,  to  writhe  upon  a 
Persian  spear,  or  grin  from  over  a  Persian  gateway. 
What  I  have  devised  is  this.  Thou  seest  my  slave 
Hadad?' 

'  I  see  him — an  Ethiopian.' 

*  So  he  seems  to  thee.  But  his  skin  is  white  as  thine. 
By  an  art,  known  only  to  me,  it  has  been  changed  to 
this  ebon  hue.' 

'What  follows?' 

'  This.  Thou  art  to  take  his  place,  thy  skin  being 
first  made  to  resemble  his,  while  he  is  cleansed,  and 
remains  in  Ecbatana.  We  then,  thou  bearing  my 
packages  of  merchandise,  take  our  way,  quietly  and 
in  broad  day-light,  through  the  gates  of  Ecbatana. 
How  sayst  thou  ? ' 

'  The  invention  is  perfect.     I  cannot  fear  the  result.' 

'  So  soon  then  as  I  shall  have  made  some  few  pre 
parations,  for  which  to-morrow  will  suffice,  I  shall  be 
ready  for  the  desert.' 

I  heard  these  words  with  joy.  I  now  called  to 
Hadad  to  open  his  cases  of  jewels,  from  which  I  took 
a  seal,  having  upon  it  the  head  of  Zenobia,  and  offered 
it  to  Calpurnius.  He  seized  it  with  eagerness,  having 
never  before  seen  even  so  much  as  a  drawing  of  the 
Great  Queen.  I  then  drew  forth  thine  own  ring  and 
gave  him,  with  that  locket  containing  the  hair  of  Por 
tia,  and  thy  letter.  He  received  them  with  emotion  ; 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  237 

and  as  I  engaged  myself  in  re-packing  my  goods,  my 
quick  ear  caught  tears  falling  upon  the  sheet  as  he  read. 

I  then  returned  to  the  house  of  Levi. 

Thus  have  I  accomplished,  successfully  so  far,  my 
errand.  I  write  these  things  to  thee,  because  a  caravan 
leaves  Ecbatana  in  the  morning,  and  may  reach  Pal 
myra  before  ourselves  ;  though  it  is  quite  possible 
that  we  may  overtake  and  join  it.  But  we  may  also 
be  delayed  for  many  days.  So  that  it  is  right,  in  that 
case,  thou  shouldst  hear. 


IN  these  words,  my  Curtius,  you  have,  for  the  most 
part,  the  letter  of  Isaac.  I  have  omitted  many  things 
which  at  another  time  you  shall  see.  They  are  such 
as  relate  chiefly  to  himself  and  his  faith  —  abounding 
in  cautions  against  that  heretie-ProbttsT  who  Tiaunts  his  / 
imagination  as  if  he  were  the  very  genius  of  evil. 

How  can  I  believe  it,  that  within  a  few  hours  I  may 
embrace  a  brother,  separated  so  long,  and  so  long  num 
bered  with  the  dead  ?  Yet  how  mixed  the  pleasure  ! 
He  returns  a  brother,  but  not  a  Roman.  Nay,  't  is  the 
expectation  of  war  with  Rome,  that  has  gained  him. 
I  am  perplexed  and  sad,  at  the  same  time  that  I  leap 
for  joy.  Fausta  cannot  conceal  her  satisfaction  —  yet 
she  pities  me.  Gracchus  tells  us  to  moderate  our 
feelings  and  expectations,  as  the  full  cup  is  often  spilled. 
No  more  now  —  except  this  —  that  you  fail  not  at  once 
to  send  this  letter  to  Portia.  Farewell  ! 


VOL.    I.  21 


238  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 


LETTER    IX. 

SEVERAL  days  have  elapsed  since  I  last  wrote,  yet 
Calpurnius  is  not  arrived.  I  am  filled  with  apprehen 
sions.  I  fear  lest  he  may  have  thought  too  lightly  of 
the  difficulties  of  an  escape,  and  of  the  strictness  with 
which  he  is  watched  ;  for  while  he  seems  to  have  held 
it  an  easy  matter  to  elude  the  vigilance  of  his  keepers, 
common  opinion  at  Ecbatana  appears  to  have  judged 
very  differently.  Yet,  after  all,  I  cannot  but  rely  with 
much  confidence  upon  the  discretion  and  the  cunning 
of  Isaac.  I  must  now  relate  what  has  happened  in  the 
mean  time. 

It  was  the  morning  after  Isaac's  letter  had  been 
received  and  read,  that  Milo  presented  himself,  with  a 
countenance  and  manner  indicative  of  some  inward 
disturbance. 

'  And  what,'  I  asked,  '  may  be  the  matter  ?  ' 

'  Enough  is  the  matter,  both  for  yourself  and  me,'  he 
replied.  *  Here  now  has  been  a  wretch  of  an  Arab,  a 
fellow  of  no  appearance,  a  mere  camel-driver,  desiring 
to  see  you.  I  told  him  flatly  that  you  were  not  to  be 
seen  by  scum  such  as  he.  I  advised  him  to  be  gone, 
before  he  might  have  to  complain  of  a  broken  head. 
And  what  do  you  suppose  was  the  burden  of  his 
errand  ?  Why  truly  to  ask  of  the  most  noble  Piso 
concerning  his  wife  and  child  !  I  begged  him  to  con 
sider  whether,  supposing  you  did  know  aught  concern 
ing  them,  you  would  deign  to  communicate  with  a 
sun-baked  beggar  of  the  desert  like  him.  Whereupon 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  239 

he  raised  a  lance  longer  than  a  mast,  and  would  have 
run  me  through,  but  for  the  expertness  with  which  I 
seized  and  wrested  it  from  him,  and  then  broke  it  over 
his  head.  'T  was  the  same  scowling  knave  whose 
camels  choked  the  street  the  first  day  we  entered  the 
city,  and  who  sent  his  curse  after  us.  Hassan  is  his 
name.  His  eye  left  a  mark  on  me  that 's  not  out  yet. 
A  hyena's  is  nothing  to  it.' 

Thus  did  he  run  on.  I  could  have  speared  him  as 
willingly  as  Hassan.  It  was  plain  that  the  husband 
of  the  woman  found  in  the  desert  by  Isaac,  hearing  a 
rumor  of  intelligence  received  by  me,  had  been  to  obtain 
such  information  as  possibly  I  might  possess  of  his  wife 
and  child.  Upon  asking  my  slave  where  the  camel- 
driver  now  was,  he  replied  that,  '  Truly  he  did  not 
know ;  he  had  been  driven  from  the  court-yard  with 
blows,  and  it  was  a  mercy  that  his  life  was  left  to  him. 
He  had  been  taught  how  again  to  curse  Romans.' 

It  was  in  vain  that  I  assured  him  once  and  again 
that  he  was  no  longer  in  the  service  of  an  emperor, 
and  that  it  was  unnecessary  to  treat  me  with  quite  so 
much  deference ;  his  only  regret  was  that  the  robber 
had  got  off  so  easily.  As  the  only  reparation  in  my 
power  for  such  stupidity  and  inhumanity,  I  ordered 
Milo  instantly  to  set  forth  in  search  of  Hassan,  in  the 
quarter  of  the  city  which  the  Arabs  chiefly  frequent, 
and  finding  him,  to  bring  him  to  the  house  of  Gracchus, 
for  I  had  news  for  him.  This  was  little  relished  by 
Milo,  and  I  could  see,  by  the  change  of  his  counte 
nance,  that  his  cowardly  soul  was  ill-inclined  to  an 
encounter  with  the  insulted  Arab,  in  the  remote  parts 
of  the  city,  and  unaccompanied  by  any  of  the  slaves  of 


240  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

the  palace.  Nevertheless,  he  started  upon  his  errand 
— but,  as  I  afterward  learned,  bribed  Hannibal  to  act 
as  life-guard. 

Thinking  that  I  might  possibly  fall  in  with  him 
myself,  and  desirous,  moreover,  of  an  occupation  that 
should  cause  me  to  forget  Calpurnius  and  my  anxieties 
for  a  season,  I  went  forth  also,  taking  the  paths  that 
first  offered  themselves.  A  sort  of  instinct  drew  me, 
as  it  almost  always  does,  to  one  of  the  principal  streets 
of  the  city,  denominated,  from  the  size  and  beauty  of 
the  trees  which  adorn  it,  the  Street  of  Palms.  This  is 
an  avenue  which  traverses  the  city  in  its  whole  length  ; 
and  at  equal  distances  from  its  centre,  and  also  running 
its  whole  length,  there  shoots  up  a  double  row  of  palms, 
which,  far  above  the  roofs  of  the  highest  buildings, 
spread  out  their  broad  and  massy  tufts  of  leaves,  and 
perfectly  protect  the  throngs  below  from  the  rays  of  the 
blazing  sun.  Thus  a  deep  shadow  is  cast  upon  the 
floor  of  the  street,  while  at  the  same  time,  it  is  unen 
cumbered  by  the  low  branches,  which  on  every  other 
kind  of  tree  stretch  out  in  all  directions,  and  obstruct 
the  view,  taking  away  a  greater  beauty  and  advantage 
than  they  give.  This  palm  is  not  the  date-bearing 
species,  but  of  another  sort,  attaining  a  loftier  growth, 
and  adorned  with  a  larger  leaf.  A  pity  truly  it  is, 
that  Rome  cannot  crown  itself  with  this  princely  dia 
dem  ;  but  even  though  the  bitter  blasts  from  the  Ap- 
pennines  did  not  prevent,  a  want  of  taste  for  what  is 
beautiful  would.  The  Roman  is  a  coarse  form  of 
humanity,  Curtius,  compared  with  either  the  Greek  or 
the  Palmyrene.  Romans  will  best  conquer  the  world, 
or  defend  it ;  but  its  adorning  should  be  left  to  others. 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  241 

Their  hands  are  rude,  and  they  but  spoil  what  they 
touch.  Since  the  days  of  Cicero,  and  the  death  of  the 
Republic,  what  has  Rome  done  to  advance  any  cause, 
save  that  of  slavery  and  licentiousness  ?  A  moral 
Hercules  is  needed  to  sweep  it  clean  of  corruptions, 
which  it  is  amazing  have  not  ere  this  drawn  down  the 
thunder  of  the  gods.  Julia  would  say  that  Christ  is 
that  Hercules'."  May  it  be  so  ! 

Along  the  street  which  I  had  thus  entered  I  slowly 
sauntered,  observing  the  people  who  thronged  it,  and 
the  shops  with  their  varieties  which  lined  it.  I  could 
easily  gather  from  the  conversation  which  now  and 
then  fell  upon  my  ear — sometimes  as  I  mingled  with 
those  who  were  observing  a  fine  piece  of  sculpture  or 
a  new  picture  exposed  for  sale,  or  examining  the  arti 
cles  which  some  hawker  with  much  vociferation  thrust 
upon  the  attention  of  those  who  were  passing  along,  or 
waiting  at  a  fountain,  while  slaves  in  attendance  served 
round  in  vessels  of  glass,  water  cooled  with  snow  and 
flavored  with  the  juice  of  fruits  peculiar  to  the  East — 
that  the  arrival  of  the  ambassadors  had  caused  a  great 
excitement  among  the  people,  and  had  turned  all 
thoughts  into  one  channel.  Frequently  were  they 
gathered  together  in  groups,  around  some  of  the  larger 
trees,  or  at  the  corners  of  the  streets,  or  at  the  entrance 
of  some  conspicuous  shop,  to  listen  to  the  news  which 
one  had  to  tell,  or  to  arguments  upon  the  all-engrossing 
theme  with  which  another  sought  to  bring  over  those 
who  would  listen,  to  one  or  another  side  of  the  great 
question.  But  I  must  confess  that — save  in  a  very 
few  instances — the  question  was  no  question  at  all, 
and  had  but  one  side.  Those  whom  I  heard,  and  who 
VOL.  i.  21* 


242  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

were  listened  to  by  any  numbers,  and  with  any  patience, 
were  zealous  patriots,  inveighing  bitterly  against  the 
ambition  and  tyranny  of  Rome,  and  prognosticating 
national  degradation,  and  ruin,  and  slavery,  if  once  the 
policy  of  concession  to  her  demands  was  adopted. 

'  Palmyra,'  they  said,  *  with  Zenobia  and  Longinus 
at  her  head,  the  deserts  around  her,  and  Persia  to  back 
her,  might  fearlessly  stand  against  Rome  and  the 
world.  Empire  began  in  the  East :  it  had  only  wan 
dered  for  a  while  to  the  West — losing  its  way.  The 
East  was  its  native  seat,  and  there  it  would  return. 
Why  should  not  Palmyra  be  what  Assyria  and  Persia 
once  were  ?  What  kingdom  of  the  world,  and  what 
age,  could  ever  boast  a  general  like  Zabdas,  a  minister 
like  Longinus,  a  queen  like  the  great  Zenobia  ? '  At 
such  flights,  the  air  would  resound  with  the  plaudits 
of  the  listening  crowd,  who  would  then  disperse  and 
pursue  their  affairs,  or  presently  gather  around  some 
new  declaimer. 

I  was  greatly  moved  on  several  of  these  occasions, 
to  make  a  few  statements  in  reply  to  some  of  the  orators, 
and  which  might  possibly  have  let  a  little  light  upon 
minds  willing  to  know  the  truth  ;  but  I  doubted  whether 
even  the  proverbially  good-natured  and  courteous  Pal- 
myrenes  might  not  take  umbrage  at  it.  As  I  turned 
from  one  of  these  little  knots  of  politicians,  I  encoun 
tered  Otho,  a  nobleman  of  Palmyra  and  one  of  the 
Queen's  council.  *  I  was  just  asking  myself,'  said  I, 
saluting  him,  *  whether  the  temper  of  your  people,  even 
and  forbearing  as  it  is,  would  allow  a  Roman  in  their 
own  city  to  harangue  them,  who  should  not  so  much 
advocate  a  side,  as  aim  to  impart  truth.' 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  243 

*  Genuine  Palmyrenes,'  he  answered,  *  would  listen 
with  patience  and  civility.  But,  in  a  crowded  street, 
one  can  never  answer  for  his  audience.  You  see  here 
not  only  Palmyrenes,  but  strangers  from  all  parts  of  the 
East — people  from  our  conquered  provinces  and  de 
pendences,  who  feel  politically  with  the  Palmyrene, 
but  yet  have  not  the  manners  of  the  Palmyrene.  There 
is  an  Armenian,  there  a  Saracen,  there  an  Arab,  there 
a  Cappadocian,  there  a  Jew,  and  there  an  Egyptian — 
all  politically  perhaps  with  us,  but  otherwise  a  part  of 
us  not  more  than  the  Ethiopian  or  Scythian.  The 
Senate  of  Palmyra  would  hear  all  you  might  say — or 
the  Queen's  council — but  not  the  street,  I  fear.  Nay, 
one  of  these  idle  boys,  but  whose  patriotism  is  ever 
boiling  over,  might  in  his  zeal  and  his  ignorance  do 
that  which  should  bring  disgrace  upon  our  good  city. 
I  should  rather  pray  you  to  forbear.  But  if  you  will 
extend  your  walk  to  the  Portico  which  I  have  just  left, 
you  will  there  find  a  more  select  crowd  than  jostles  us 
where  we  stand,  and  perhaps  ears  ready  to  hear  you. 
All  that  you  may  say  to  divert  the  heart  of  the  nation 
from  this  mad  enterprise,  I  shall  be  most  grateful  for. 
But  any  words  which  you  may  speak,  or  which  a 
present  god  might  utter,  would  avail  no  more  against 
the  reigning  frenzy,  than  would  a  palm  leaf  against  a 
whirlwind  of  the  desert.' 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  with  a  voice  somewhat 
elevated,  several  had  gathered  about  us,  listening  with 
eagerness  to  what  the  noble  and  respected  Otho  had  to 
say.  They  heard  him  attentively,  shook  their  heads, 
and  turned  away — some  saying :  '  He  is  a  good  man, 
but  timid.'  Others  scrupled  not  to  impute  to  him  a 


244  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

'•Roman  leaning.'  When  he  had  ended,  seeing  that  a 
number  had  pressed  around,  he  hastily  wished  me  a 
happy  day,  and  moved  down  the  street.  I  bent  my 
way  toward  the  Portico,  ruminating  the  while  upon 
the  fates  of  empire. 

I  soon  reached  that  magnificent  structure,  with  its 
endless  lines  of  columns.  More  than  the  usual  crowd 
of  talkers,  idlers,  strangers,  buyers  and  sellers,  thronged 
its  ample  pavements.  One  portion  of  it  seems  to  be 
appropriated,  at  least  abandoned,  to  those  who  have 
aught  that  is  rare  and  beautiful  to  dispose  of:  Before 
one  column  stands  a  Jew  with  antiquities  raked  from 
the  ruins  of  Babylon  or  Thebes — displaying  their  coins, 
their  mutilated  statuary,  or  half  legible  inscriptions. 
At  another,  you  see  a  Greek  with  some  masterpiece 
of  Zeuxis — nobody  less — which  he  swears  is  genuine, 
and  to  his  oaths  adds  a  parchment  containing  its  his 
tory,  with  names  of  men  in  Athens,  Antioch  and  Al 
exandria,  who  attest  it  all.  At  the  foot  of  another,  sits 
a  dealer  in  manuscripts,  remarkable  either  as  being  the 
complete  works  of  distinguished  authors,  or  for  the 
perfection  of  the  art  of  the  copyist,  or  for  their  great 
antiquity.  Here  were  Manetho  and  Sanchoniathon  to 
be  had  perfect  and  complete  !  Not  far  from  these 
stood  others,  who  offered  sculptures,  ancient  and  modern 
— vases  of  every  beautiful  form,  from  those  of  Egypt 
and  Etruria,  to  the  freshly-wrought  ones  of  our  own 
Demetrius — and  jewelry  of  the  most  rare  and  costly 
kinds.  There  is  scarce  an  article  of  taste,  or  valuable 
of  any  sort  whatever,  but  may  be  found  here,  brought 
from  all  parts  of  the  world.  In  Persian,  Indian,  arid 
Chinese  rarities — which  in  Rome  are  rarities  indeed — 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  245 

I  have  dealt  largely,  and  shall  return  with  much  to 
show  you. 

When,  with  some  toil,  I  had  won  a  passage  through 
this  busy  mart,  I  mingled  with  a  different  crowd.  I 
passed  from  buyers  and  sellers  among  those  who  were, 
like  myself,  brought  there  merely  for  the  purpose  of 
seeing  others,  of  passing  the  time,  and  observing  the 
beautiful  effects  of  this  interminable  Portico,  with  its 
moving  and  changing  crowds  robed  in  a  thousand  va 
rieties  of  the  richest  costume.  It  was  indeed  a  spectacle 
of  beauty,  such  as  I  never  had  seen  be  fore  nor  elsewhere. 
I  chose  out  point  after  point,  and  stood  a  silent  and  rapt 
observer  of  the  scene.  Of  the  view  from  one  of  these 
points,  I  have  purchased  a  painting,  done  with  exquisite 
skill,  which  I  shall  send  to  you,  and  which  will  set 
before  you  almost  the  living  reality. 

To  this  part  of  the  Portico  those  resort  who  wish  to 
hear  the  opinions  of  the  day  upon  subjects  of  politics  or 
literature,  or  philosophy,  or  to  disseminate  their  own. 
He  who  cherishes  a  darling  theory  upon  any  branch 
of  knowledge,  and  would  promulgate  it,  let  him  come 
here,  and  he  will  find  hearers  at  least.  As  I  walked 
along,  I  was  attracted  by  a  voice  declaiming  with  much 
earnestness  to  a  crowd  of  hearers,  and  who  seemed  as 
I  drew  near  to  listen  with  attention,  some  being  seated 
upon  low  blocks  of  marble  arranged  among  the  columns 
of  the  Portico  for  this  purpose,  others  leaning  against 
the  columns  themselves,  and  others  standing  on  the 
outside  of  the  circle.  The  philosopher — for  such  I 
perceived  him  at  once  to  be — was  evidently  a  Greek. 
He  was  arrayed  in  a  fashionable  garb,  with  a  robe 
much  like  our  toga  thrown  over  his  shoulders,  and 


246  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

which  he  made  great  use  of  in  his  gesticulations.  A 
heavy  chain  of  gold  was  wound  around  his  neck,  and 
then  crossing  several  times  his  breast,  hung  down  in 
artificially-arranged  festoons.  A  general  air  of  effem 
inacy  produced  in  the  hearer  at  once  a  state  of  mind  not 
very  favorably  disposed  to  receive  his  opinions.  The 
first  words  I  caught  were  these  :  '  In  this  manner,'  said 
he,  '  did  that  wonderful  genius  interpret  the  universe. 
'T  is  not  credible  that  any  but  children  and  slaves  should 
judge  differently.  Was  there  once  nothing  ?  Then 
were  there  nothing  now.  But  there  is  something  now. 
"We  see  it.  The  world  is.  Then  it  has  always  been. 
It  is  an  eternal  Being.  It  is  infinite.  Ha !  can  you 
escape  me  now  ?  Say,  can  there  be  two  infinites  ? 
Then  where  are  your  gods  ?  The  fabled  creator  or 
creators — be  they  many  or  one — of  the  universe  ? 
Vanished,  I  fancy,  at  the  touch  of  my  intellectual  wand, 
into  thin  air.  Congratulate  yourselves  upon  your  free 
dom.  The  Egyptians  had  gods,  and  you  know  what 
they  were.  The  Greeks  had  gods,  and  you  know  what 
they  were.  Those  nations  grovelled  and  writhed  under 
their  partly  childish,  partly  terrific,  and  partly  disgust 
ing  superstitions.  Happy  that  the  reality  of  divine 
natures  can,  so  easily  as  I  have  now  done  it,  be  dis 
proved  !  The  superincumbent  gloom  is  dispersed. 
Light  has  broken  through.  And  so  too,  touching  the 
immortality  of  the  soul.  Immortality  of  the  soul!  Did 
any  one  of  you  ever  see  a  soul  ?  I  should  like  to  have 
that  question  answered  : ' — he  swung  defyingly  his 
robe  and  paused — '  did  any  one  ever  see  a  soul !  Yes, 
and  that  it  was  immortal,  too  !  You  see  a  body,  and 
therefore  you  believe  in  it.  You  see  that  it  is  mortal 


iil^/, ../. 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  247 

and  therefore  you  believe  in  its  mortality.  You  do  not 
see  the  soul — therefore  you  believe  in  one  ?  Is  that 
-your  reasoning  ?  How  plain  the  argument  is  !  When 
the  god  or  gods — suppose  their  being — shall  send 
down  and  impart  to  me  the  astounding  fact  that  I  am 
not  one,  as  t  seem,  but  two — am  not  mortal,  as  I  seem, 
but_  immortal— do  not  melt  into  dust  at  death,  but  rise 
in  spirit — then  will  I  believe  such  things,  not  other 
wise/  Have  we  knowledge  of  any  other  existences — 
elemental  existences — than  corporeal  atoms?  None. 
These  constitute  the  human  being.  Death  is  their 
separation,  and  that  separation  means  the  end  of  the 
being  they  once  did  constitute.  But  it  may  all  be 
summed  up  in  a  word.  When  you  can  see  and  touch 
your  own  soul,  as  you  do  see  and  touch  your  body, 
believe  in  it.  Deny  and  reject  this  principle,  and  the 
world  will  continue  to  suffer  from  its  belief  in  gorgons, 
demons,  spectres,  gods,  and  monsters ;  in  Tartarean 
regions  and  torments  of  damned  spirits.  Adopt  it,  and 
life  flows  undisturbed  by  visionary  fears,  and  death 
comes  as  a  long  and  welcome  sleep,  upon  which  no 
terrors  and  no  dreams  intrude.' 

Such  was  the  doctrine,  and  such  nearly  the  language 
of  the  follower  of  Epicurus.  You  will  easily  judge 
how  far  he  misrepresented  the  opinions  of  that  philoso 
pher.  As  I  turned  away  from  this  mischievous  dealer 
in  Cimmerian  darkness,  1  inquired  of  one  who  stood 
near  me  who  this  great  man  might  be. 

'  What,'  said  he,  in  reply,  '  do  you  not  know  Critias 
the  Epicurean?  You  must  be  a  stranger  in  Palmyra. 
Do  you  not  see,  by  the  quality  of  his  audience,  that  he 
leads  away  with  him  all  the  fine  spirits  of  the  city  ? 


248 


Z  E  N  0  BI A. 


Observe  how  the  greater  number  of  these  who  hang 
upon  his  lips  resemble,  in  their  dress  and  air,  the 
philosopher.' 

'  I  see  it  is  so.  It  seems  as  if  all  the  profligates  and 
young  rakes  of  Palmyra — of  the  nobler  sort — were 
assembled  here  to  receive  some  new  lessons  in  the  art 
of  self-destruction.' 

'  Many  a  philosopher  of  old  would,  I  believe,'  he 
rejoined,  « have  prayed  that  his  system  might  perish 
with  himself,  could  he  have  looked  forward  into  futu 
rity,  and  known  how  it  would  be  interpreted  and  set 
forth  by  his  followers.  The  temperate  and  virtuous 
Epicurus  little  thought  that  his  name  and  doctrine 
would  in  after  times  be  the  rallying  point  for  the  licen 
tious  and  dissolute.  His  philosophy  was  crude  enough, 
and  mischievous  I  grant  in  its  principles  and  tenden 
cies.  But  it  was  promulgated,  I  am  sure,  with  honest 
intentions,  and  he  himself  was  not  aware  of  its  extreme 
liability  to  misapprehension  and  perversion.  How 
would  his  ears  tingle  at  what  we  have  now  heard ! ' 

'  And  would  after  all  deserve  it,'  I  replied.  '  For 
he,  it  seems  to  me,  is  too  ignorant  of  human  nature,  to 
venture  upon  the  office  of  teacher  of  mankind,  who 
believes  that  the  reality  of  a  superintending  providence 
can  be  denied  with  safety  to  the  world.  A  glance  at 
history,  and  the  slightest  penetration  into  human  char 
acter,  would  have  shown  him,  that  atheism,  in  any  of 
its  forms,  is  incompatible  with  the  existence  of  a  social 
state.' 

'  What  you  say  is  very  true,'  replied  the  Palmyrene ; 
1 1  defend  only  the  intentions  and  personal  character  of 
Epicurus,  not  his  real  fitness  for  his  office.  This 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  249 

Critias,  were  it  not  for  the  odiousness  of  any  inter 
ference  with  men's  opinions,  I  should  like  to  see  driven 
from  our  city  back  to  his  native  Athens.  Listen  now 
as  he  lays  down  the  method  of  a  happy  life.  See  how 
these  young  idlers  drink  in  the  nectarean  stream.  But 
enough.  I  leave  them  in  their  own  stye.  Farewell ! 
Pray  invite  the  philosopher  to  visit  you  at  Rome.  We 
can  spare  him.' 

Saying  this,  he  turned  upon  his  heel  and  went  his 
way.  I  also  passed  on.  Continuing  my  walk  up  the 
Portico,  I  perceived  at  a  little  distance  another  dark 
mass  of  persons,  apparently  listening  with  profound 
attention  to  one  who  was  addressing  them.  Hoping  to 
hear  some  one  discoursing  upon  the  condition  of  the 
country  and  its  prospects,  I  joined  the  circle.  But  I  was 
disappointed.  The  orator  was  a  follower  of  Plato,  and 
a  teacher  of  his  philosophy.  His  aim  seemed  to  be 
to  darken  the  minds  of  his  hearers  by  unintelligible 
refinements,  at  least  such  I  thought  the  effect  must  be. 
He  clothed  his  thoughts — if  thoughts  there  really  were 
any — in  such  a  many-colored  cloud  of  poetic  diction, 
that  the  mind,  while  it  was  undoubtedly  excited,  re 
ceived  not  a  single  clear  idea,  but  was  left  in  a  pleasing, 
half-bewildered  state,  with  visions  of  beautiful  divine 
truth  floating  before  it,  which  it  in  vain  attempted  to 
arrest,  and  convert  to  reality.  All  was  obscure,  shadowy, 
impalpable.  Yet  was  he  heard  with  every  testimony 
of  reverence,  on  the  part  of  his  audience.  They  evi 
dently  thought  him  original  and  profound,  in  proportion 
as  he  was  incomprehensible.  I  could  not  help  calling 
to  mind  the  remark  of  the  Palmyrene  who  had  just 
parted  from  me.  It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  Plato 
VOL.  i.  22 


250  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

himself  labored  to  be  obscure,  though  some  affirm  it. 
I  would  rather  believe  that  his  great  mind,  always 
searching  after  truth  at  the  greatest  heights  and  lowest 
depths,  often  but  partially  seized  it,  being  defeated  by 
its  very  vastness ;  yet,  ambitious  to  reveal  it  to  man 
kind,  he  hesitated  not  to  exhibit  it  in  the  form  and  with 
the  completeness  he  best  could.  It  was  necessary, 
therefore,  that  what  he  but  half  knew  himself,  should 
be  imperfectly  and  darkly  stated,  and  dimly  compre 
hended  by  others.  For  this  reason,  his  writings  are 
obscure — obscure,  not  because  of  truths  for  their  vast- 
ness  beyond  the  reach  of  our  minds,  but  because  they 
abound  in  conceptions  but  half  formed — in  inconse 
quential  reasonings — in  logic  overlaid  and  buried 
beneath  a  poetic  phraseology.  They  will  always  be 
obscure,  in  spite  of  the  labors  of  the  commentators  ;  or, 
a  commentary  can  make  them  plain  only  by  substi 
tuting  the  sense  of  the  critic  for  the  no-sense  of  the 
original.  But  Plato  did  not  aim  at  darkness.  And 
could  his  spirit  have  listened  to  the  jargon  which  I  had 
just  heard  proclaimed  as  Platonism,  consisting  of  com 
mon-place  thoughts,  laboriously  tortured  and  involved, 
till  their  true  semblance  was  lost,  and  instead  of  them 
a  wordy  mist — glowing  indeed  oftentimes  with  rainbow 
colors — was  presented  to  the  mind  of  the  hearer  for 
him  to  feed  upon,  he  would  at  the  moment  have  as 
heartily  despised,  as  he  had  formerly  gloried  in,  the 
name  and  office  of  philosopher. 

I  waited  not  to  learn  the  results  at  which  this  great 
master  of  wisdom  would  arrive,  but  quickly  turned 
away,  and  advanced  still  farther  toward  the  upper  ter 
mination  of  the  Portico.  The  numbers  of  those  who 


2  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  251 

frequented  this  vast  pile  diminished  sensibly  at  this 
part  of  it.  Nevertheless,  many  were  still  like  myself 
wandering-  listlessly  around.  Quite  at  the  extremity  of 
the  building-  I  observed  however  a  larger  collection 
than  I  had  noticed  before ;  and,  as  it  appeared  to  me, 
deeply  absorbed  by  what  they  heard.  I  cared  not  to 
make  one  of  them,  having  had  enough  of  philosophy 
for  the  day.  But  as  I  stood  not  far  from  them,  idly 
watching  the  labors  of  the  workmen  who  were  carrying 
up  the  column  of  Aurelian — noting  how  one  laid  the 
stone  which  another  brought,  and  how  another  bore 
along  and  up  the  dizzy  ladders  the  mortar  which  others 
tempered,  and  how  the  larger  masses  of  marble  were 
raised  to  their  places  by  machines  worked  by  elephants, 
and  how  all  went  on  in  exact  order — while  I  stood 
thus,  the  voice  of  the  speaker  frequently  fell  upon  my 
ear,  and  at  last,  by  its  peculiarity,  and  especially  by  the 
unwonted  earnestness  of  the  tone,  drew  me  away  to 
a  position  nearer  the  listening  crowd.  By  the  words 
which  I  now  distinctly  caught,  I  discovered  that  it  was 
a  Christian  who  was  speaking.  I  joined  the  outer 
circle  of  hearers,  but  the  preacher — for  so  the  Chris 
tians  term  those  who  declare  their  doctrines  in  public — 
was  concealed  from  me  by  a  column.  I  could  hear 
him  distinctly,  and  I  could  see  the  faces,  with  their 
expressions,  of  those  whom  he  addressed.  The  greater 
part  manifested  the  deepest  interest  and  sympathy 
with  him  who  addressed  them,  but  upon  the  counte 
nances  of  some  sat  scorn  and  contempt — ridicule,  doubt, 
and  disbelief.  As  the  voice  fell  upon  my  ear,  in  this 
my  nearer  position,  I  was  startled.  '  Surely,'  I  said, 
1 1  have  heard  it  before,  and  yet  as  surely  I  never 


252 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A. 


before  heard  a  Christian  preach.'  The  thought  of 
Probus  flashed  across  my  mind ;  and  suddenly  changing 
my  place — and  by  passing  round  the  assembly,  coming 
in  front  of  the  preacher — I  at  once  recognised  the  pale 
and  melancholy  features  of  the  afflicted  Christian.  I 
was  surprised  and  delighted.  He  had  convinced  me, 
at  the  few  interviews  I  had  had  with  him,  that  he 
was  no  common  man,  and  I  had  determined  to  obtain 
from  him,  if  I  should  ever  meet  him  again,  all  neces 
sary  knowledge  of  the  Christian  institutions  and 
doctrine.  Although  I  had  learned  much,  in  the  mean 
time,  from  both  Julia  and  the  Hermit,  still  there  was 
much  left  which  I  felt  I  could  obtain,  probably  in  a 
more  exact  manner,  from  Probus.  I  was  rejoiced  to 
see  him.  He  was  evidently  drawing  to  the  close  of  his 
address.  The  words  which  I  first  caught,  were  nearly 
these : 

'  Thus  have  I  declared  to  you,  Palmyrenes,  Romans, 
and  whoever  are  here,  how  Christianity  seeks  the  hap 
piness  of  man,  by  securing  his  virtue.  Its  object  is 
your  greater  well-being  through  the  truths  it  publishes 
and  enforces.  It  comes  to  your  understandings,  not  to 
darken  and  confound  them  by  words  without  meaning, 
but  to  shed  light  upon  them  by  a  revelation  of  those 
few  sublime  doctrines  of  which  I  have  now  discoursed 
to  you.  Has  the  Greek,  the  Roman,  or  the  Persian 
philosophy,  furnished  your  minds  with  truths  like 
these?  Has  life  a  great  object,  or  death  an  issue  of 
certainty  and  joy,  under  either  of  those  systems  of 
faith  ?  Systems  of  faith  !  I  blush  to  term  them  so. 
I  am  a  Roman,  the  son  of  a  priest  of  the  temple  of 
Jupiter.  Shall  I  reveal  to  you  the  greater  and  the 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  253 

lesser  mysteries  of  that  worship  ?  I  see  by  most  expres 
sive  signs  that  it  cannot  be  needful.  Why  then,  if  ye 
yourselves  know  and  despise  the  popular  worship,  why 
will  you  not  consider  the  claims  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ? ' 

'  I  despise  it  not,'  cried  a  voice  from  the  throng,  '  I 
honor  it.' 

'  In  every  nation,'  continued  the  preacher,  *  and 
among  all  worshippers,  are  there  those  whom  God  will 
accept.  The  sincere  offering  of  the  heart  will  never 
be  refused.  Socrates,  toiling  and  dying  in  the  cause 
of  truth — though  that  truth, in  the  light  of  the  Gospel, 
\vereTerror — is  beloved  of  God.  But  if  God  has  in 
these  latter  days  announced  new  truth,  if  he  has  sent  a 
special  messenger  to  teach  it,  or  if  it  be  asserted  by 
persons  of  intelligence  and  apparent  honesty  that  he 
has,  ought  not  every  sincere  lover  of  truth  and  of  God, 
or  the  gods,  to  inquire  diligently  whether  it  be  so  or  not? 
Socrates  would  have  done  so.  Search,  men  of  Pal 
myra,  into  the  certainty  of  these  things.  These  many 
years  has  the  word  of  Christ  been  preached  in  your 
streets,  yet  how  few  followers  can  as  yet  be  counted  of 
him  who  came  to  bless  you  !  Sleep  no  longer.  Close 
not  the  ear  against  the  parent  voice  of  the  Gospel. 
Fear  not  that  the  religion  of  Jesus  comes  to  reign  over 
aught  but  your  hearts.  It  asks  no  dominion  over  your 
temporal  affairs.  It  cares  not  for  thrones,  nor  the  sword, 
nor  princely  revenues,  nor  seats  of  honor.  It  would 
serve  you,  not  rule  over  you.  And  the  ministers  of 
Christ  are  your  servants  in  spiritual  things,  seeking 
not  yours,  but  you.' 

'  Paul !  Paul  of  Antioch  ! '  shouted  several  voices  at 
once. 

VOL.  i.  22* 


254  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

*  I  defend  not  Paul  of  Antioch,'  cried  Probus,  no 
ways  disconcerted.  'Judge  Christianity,  I  pray  you, 
^not  by  me,  nor  by  Paul,  but  by  itself.  Because  a  fool 
lectures  upon  the  philosophy  of  Plato,  you  do  not 
therefore  condemn  Plato  for  a  fool.  Because  a  disciple 
of  Zeno  lives  luxuriously,  you  do  not  for  that  take  up 
a  judgment  against  the  philosopher  himself.  Paul  of 
Samosata,  not  in  his  doctrine,  but  in  his  life,  is  an 
alien,  a  foreigner,  an  adversary,  and  no  friend  or  ser 
vant  of  Jesus.  Listen,  citizens  of  Palmyra,  while  I 
read  to  you  what  the  founder  of  Christianity  himself 
says  touching  this  matter  ! '  and  he  drew  from  beneath 
his  robe  a  small  parchment  roll,  and  turning  to  the 
part  he  sought,  read  in  a  loud  voice  words  of  Jesus 
such  as  these :  '  He  that  is  greatest  among  you  shall 
be  your  servant.  Whosoever  shall  exalt  himself  shall 
be  abased,  and  he  that  shall  humble  himself  shall  be 
exalted.'  'This  is  the  doctrine  of  Christ.  According 
to  Jesus,  "  he  among  his  disciples  is  greatest,  who  per 
forms  for  others  the  most  essential  service.'"  He  then 
turned  to  another  part  of  the  book,  and  read  a  long, 
and  as  it  struck  me  beautiful  passage,  in  which  the 
author  of  Christianity  was  represented  as  stooping  and 
washing  the  feet  of  his  disciples,  to  enforce  in  a  more 
lively  way  his  doctrine  of  humility  and  philanthropy. 
When  he  had  finished  it,  a  deep  silence  had  fallen  upon 
those  who  listened.  It  was  broken  by  the  voice  of 
Probus  once  more  saying  in  low  and  sorrowful  tones :  '  1 
confess — with  grief  and  shame  I  confess — that  pride, 
and  arrogance,  and  the  lust  of  power,  are  already 
among  the  ministers  of  Jesus.  They  are  sundering 
themselves  from  their  master,  and  thrusting  a  sword 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  255 

into  the  life  of  his  Gospel.  And  if  this  faith  of  Christ 
should  ever — as  a  prophetic  eye  sees  it  so  sure  to  do— 
fill  the  throne  of  the  world,  and  sit  in  Caesar's  place, 
may  the  God  who  gave  it  appear  for  it,  that  it  perish 
not  through  the  encumbering  weight  of  earthly  glory. 
Through  tribulation  and  persecution  it  has  held  on  its 
way  without  swerving.  Prosperity  begins  already  to 

weaken  and  defile ' 

What  more  Probus  would  have  added,  I  know  not ; 
for  at  this  point  an  unusual  disturbance  arose  in  the 
streets.  Trumpets  sent  forth  their  long  peal,  and  a 
troop  of  out-riders,  as  accompanying  some  great  per 
sonage,  rode  rapidly  along,  followed  by  the  crowd  of 
idle  lookers-on.  And  immediately  a  chariot  appeared, 
with  a  single  individual  seated  in  it,  who  seemed  to 
take  great  pleasure  in  his  own  state.  No  sooner  had 
the  pageant  arrived  over  against  that  part  of  the  Por 
tico  where  we  stood,  than  one  and  another  of  Probus's 
hearers  exclaimed  : 

I  Ha  !  Paul !  Paul  of  Antioch  !    Behold  a  Christian 
servant ! '    And  the  whole  throng  turned  away  in  con 
fusion  to  watch  the  spectacle. 

'  An  unhappy  commentary  upon  the  doctrine,'  said 
a  Palmyrene  to  me,  as  he  turned  sneeringly  away. 

*  What  say  you  to  this  ? '  asked  another,  of  Probus 
himself,  as  he  descended  from  his  rostrum,  and  stood 
gazing  with  the  rest,  but  with  a  burning  cheek  and 
downcast  eye. 

'  I  say,'  he  replied,  '  what  I  have  said  before,  that 
yonder  bishop,  however  christianized  his  head  may  be 
is  a  misbeliever  in  his  heart.  He  is  a  true  anti-Christ. 

I 1  am  disposed  to  trust  you,'  rejoined  the  other.    '  1 


256  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

have  heard  you  not  without  emotion.  We  have  had 
among  us  many  who  have  declared  the  doctrine  of 
Christ.  But  I  have  heeded  them  not.  It  is  different 
with  me  now.  I  am  desirous  to  know  what  this  doc 
trine  of  Christ  is.  I  have  been  impressed  by  what  you 
recited  from  the  writings  of  Jesus.  How,  Christian, 
shall  I  apply  myself,  and  where,  to  learn  more  than  I 
know  now  ? ' 

'  If  thou  wilt  learn  of  so  humble  a  teacher  as  I  am, 
— who  yet  know  somewhat  of  what  Christianity  really 
is — come  and  hear  me  at  the  place  of  Christian  wor 
ship  in  the  street  that  runs  behind  the  great  Persian 
Inn.  There,  this  evening  when  the  sun  is  down,  shall 
I  preach  again  the  truth  in  Christ.' 

'  I  shall  not  fail  to  be  there,'  said  the  other,  and 
moved  away. 

4  Nor  shall  I,  Probus,'  said  I,  heartily  saluting  him. 

'  Noble  Piso ! '  he  cried,  his  countenance  suddenly 
growing  bright  as  the  sun,  *  I  am  glad  to  meet  you  at 
length.  And  have  you  too  heard  a  Christian  preach  * 
A  senator  of  Rome  ? ' 

'  I  have  ;  and  I  shall  gladly  hear  more.  I  am  not, 
however,  a  Christian,  Probus ;  I  profess  to  be  but  a 
seeker  after  truth,  if  perhaps  it  may  be  found  in  your 
faith,  having  failed  to  discover  it  among  dead  or  living 
philosophers.  I  shall  hear  you  to-night.' 

After  many  mutual  inquiries  concerning  each  other's 
welfare,  we  separated. 

Upon  returning  to  the  house  of  Gracchus,  and  find 
ing  myself  again  in  the  company  of  Fausta  and  her 
father,  I  said :  « I  go  to-night  to  hear  a  Christian,  the 


ZEN  OBI  A.  25? 

Christian  Probus,  discourse  concerning  the  Christian 
doctrine.  Will  you  accompany  me,  Fausta  ? ' 

'  Not  now,  Lucius,'  she  replied ;  '  my  head  and 
heart  are  too  full  of  the  interests  and  cares  of  Zenobia, 
to  allow  me  to  think  of  aught  else.  No  other  reason, 
I  assure  you,  prevents.  I  have  no  fears  of  the  opinions 
of  others  to  hinder  me.  When  our  public  affairs  are 
once  more  in  a  settled  state,  I  shall  not  be  slow  to  learn 
more  of  the  religion  of  which  you  speak.  Julia's  at 
tachment  to  it,  of  itself,  has  almost  made  a  convert  of 
me  already,  so  full  of  sympathy  in  all  things  is  a  true 
affection.  But  the  heart  is  a  poor  logician.  It  darts 
to  its  object,  overleaping  all  reasons,  and  may  as  well 
rest  in  error  as  truth.  Whatever  the  purity  of  Julia 
and  the  honesty  and  vigor  of  Zenobia  accept  and  wor 
ship,  I  believe  I  should,  without  further  investigation, 
though  they  were  the  fooleries  and  gods  of  Egypt. 
Did  you  succeed  in  your  search  of  the  Arab  ? ' 

*  No :  but  perhaps  Milo  has.  To  tell  the  truth,  I 
was  soon  diverted  from  that  object,  first  by  the  excite 
ment  I  found  prevailing  among  the  people  on  the  affairs 
of  the  kingdom,  and  afterward  by  the  spectacles  of  the 
Portico,  and  the  preaching  of  Probus,  whom  I  encoun 
tered  there.' 

In  the  evening,  soon  as  the  sun  was  set,  I  wound 
my  way  to  the  Christians'  place  of  worship. 

It  was  in  a  part  of  the  city  remote  and  obscure,  indi 
cating  very  plainly  that  whatever  Christianity  may 
be  destined  to  accomplish  in  this  city,  it  has  done  little 
as  yet.  Indeed,  I  do  not  perceive  what  principle  of 
strength  or  power  it  possesses,  sufficient  to  force  its 
way  through  the  world,  and  into  the  hearts  of  men. 


258  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

It  allows  not  the  use  of  the  sword ;  it  resorts  not  to  the 
civil  arm;  it  is  devoid  of  all  that  should  win  upon  the 
senses  of  the  multitude,  being,  beyond  all  other  forms 
of  faith,  remarkable  for  its  simplicity,  for  its  spiritual 
and  intellectual  character.  Moreover,  it  is  stern  and 
uncompromising  in  its  morality,  requiring  the  strictest 
purity  of  life,  and  making  virtue  to  consist  not  in  the 
outward  act,  but  in  the  secret  motive  which  prompts 
the  act.  It  is  at  open  and  unintermitting  war  with  all 
the  vain  and  vicious  inclinations  of  the  heart.  It  insists 
upon  an  undivided  sovereignty  over  the  whole  charac 
ter  and  life  of  the  individual.  And  in  return  for  such 
surrender,  it  bestows  no  other  reward  than  an  inward 
consciousness  of  right  action,  and  of  the  approbation  of 
God,  with  the  hope  of  immortality.  It  seems  thus  to 
have  man's  whole  nature,  and  all  the  institutions  of  the 
world,  especially  of  other  existing  religions,  to  contend 
with.  If  it  prevail  against  such  odds,  and  with  such 
means  as  it  alone  employs,  it  surely  will  carry  along 
with  it  its  own  demonstration  of  its  divinity.  But  how 
it  shall  have  power  to  achieve  such  conquests,  I  now 
cannot  see  nor  conjecture. 

Arriving  at  the  place  designated  by  Probus,  I  found 
a  low  building  of  stone,  which  seemed  to  have  been 
diverted  from  former  uses  of  a  different  kind,  to  serve 
its  present  purpose  as  a  temple  of  religious  worship. 
Passing  through  a  door,  of  height  scarce  sufficient  to 
admit  a  person  of  ordinary  stature,  I  reached  a  vesti 
bule,  from  which  by  a  descent  of  a  few  steps  I  entered 
a  large  circular  apartment,  low  but  not  inelegant,  with 
a  vaulted  ceiling  supported  by  chaste  Ionic  columns. 
The  assembly  was  already  seated,  but  the  worship  not 


Z  E  N  0  B  1  A  .  259 

begun.  The  service  consisted  of  prayers  to  God, 
offered  in  the  name  of  Christ ;  of  reading  a  portion  of 
the  sacred  books  of  the  Christians,  of  preaching,  of 
music  sung  to  religious  words,  and  voluntary  offerings 
of  money  or  other  gifts  for  the  poor. 

I  cannot  doubt  that  you  are  repelled,  my  Curtius,  by 
this  account  of  a  worship  of  such  simplicity  as  to  amount 
almost  to  poverty.  But  I  must  tell  you  that  never 
have  I  been  so  overwhelmed  by  emotions  of  the  noblest 
kind,  as  when  sitting  in  the  midst  of  these  despised 
Nazarenes,  and  joining  in  their  devotions ;  for  to  sit 
neuter  in  such  a  scene,  it  was  not  in  my  nature  to  do, 
nor  would  it  have  been  in  yours,  much  as  you  affect 
to  despise  this  '  superstitious  race.'  This  was  indeed 
worship.  It  was  a  true  communion  of  the  creature 
with  the  Creator.  Never  before  had  I  heard  a  prayer. 
How  different  from  the  loud  and  declamatory  harangues 
of  our  priests !  the  full  and  rich  tones  of  the  voice  of 
Probus,  expressive  of  deepest  reverence  of  the  Being 
he  addressed,  and  of  profoundest  humility  on  the  part 
of  the  worshipper,  seeming  too  as  if  uttered  in  no  part 
by  the  usual  organs  of  speech,  but  as  if  pronounced  by 
the  very  heart  itself,  fell  upon  the  charmed  ear  like 
notes  from  another  world.  There  was  a  new  and 
strange  union,  both  in  the  manner  of  the  Christian  arid 
in  the  sentiments  he  expressed,  of  an  awe  such  as  I 
never  before  witnessed  in  man  towards  the  gods,  and 
a  familiarity  and  child-like  confidence,  that  made  me 
feel  as  if  the  God  to  whom  he  prayed  was  a  father  and 
a  friend,  in  a  much  higher  sense  than  we  are  accus 
tomed  to  regard  the  Creator  of  the  universe.  It  was  a 
child  soliciting  mercies  from  a  kind  and  considerate 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

parent — conscious  of  much  frailty  and  ill  desert,  but 
relying  too  with  a  perfect  trust,  both  upon  the  equity 
and  benignity  of  the  God  of  his  faith.  I  received  an 
impression  also  from  the  quiet  and  breathless  silence 
of  the  apartment,  from  the  low  and  but  just  audible 
voice  of  the  preacher,  of  the  near  neighborhood  of  gods 
and  men,  of  the  universal  presence  of  the  infinite  spirit 
of  the  Deity,  which  certainly  I  had  never  received 
before.  I  could  hardly  divest  myself  of  the  feeling  that 
the  God  addressed  was  in  truth  in  the  midst  of  the 
temple ;  and  I  found  my  eye  turning  to  the  ceiling,  as 
if  there  must  be  some  visible  manifestation  of  his  pre 
sence.  I  wish  you  could  have  been  there.  I  am  sure 
that  after  witnessing  such  devotions,  contempt  or  ridi 
cule  would  be  the  last  emotions  you  would  ever 
entertain  toward  this  people.  Neither  could  you  any 
longer  apply  to  them  the  terms  fanatic,  enthusiast,  or 
superstitious.  You  would  have  seen  a  calmness,  a 
sobriety,  a  decency,  so  remarkable ;  you  would  have 
heard  sentiments  so  rational,  so  instructive,  so  exalted, 
that  you  would  have  felt  your  prejudices  breaking 
away  and  disappearing  without  any  volition  or  act  of 
your  own.  Nay,  against  your  will  they  would  have 
fallen.  And  nothing  would  have  been  left  but  the 
naked  question — not  is  this  faith  beautiful  and  worthy 
— but  is  this  religion  true  or  false  ? 

When  the  worship  had  been  begun  by  prayer  to  God 
in  the  name  of  Christ,  then  one  of  the  officiating  priests 
opened  the  book  of  the  Christians,  the  Gospels,  and 
read  from  the  Greek  in  which  they  are  written — 
changing  it  into  the  Palmyrene  dialect  as  he  read — 
diverse  passages,  some  relating  to  the  life  of  Jesus,  and 


>W 

Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  261 

others  which  were  extracts  of  letters  written  by  apostles 
of  his  to  individuals  or  churches,  to  which  I  listened 
with  attention  and  pleasure.  When  this  was  over, 
Probus  rose,  standing  upon  a  low  platform  like  the 
rostrums  from  which  our  lawyers  plead,  and  first  read 
ing  a  sentence  from  the  sayings  of  Paul,  an  apostle  of 
JesuSijaf  _  which  this  was  the  substance,  *  Jesus  came 
into  the  world,  bringing  life  and  immortality  to  light,' 
he  delivered,  with  a  most  winning  and  persuasive 
beauty,  a  discourse,  or  oration,  the  purpose  of  which 
was  to  show,  that  Jesus  was  sent  into  the  world  to 
bring  to  light  or  make  plain  the  true  character  and  end 
of  the  life  on  earth,  and  also  the  reality  and  true  nature 
of  a  future  existence.  In  doing  this,  he  exposed — but 
in  a  manner  so  full  of  the  most  earnest  humanity  that 
no  one  could  be  offended — the  errors  of  many  of  the 
philosophers  concerning  a  happy  life,  and  compared 
with  the  greatest  force  their  requisitions  with  those  of 
the  gospel,  as  he  termed  his  religion  ;  showing  what 
unworthy  and  inadequate  conceptions  had  prevailed  as 
to  what  constitutes  a  man  truly  great,  and  good,  and 
happy.  Then  he  went  on  to  show,  that  it  was  such  a 
life  only  as  he  had  described  that  could  make  a  being 
like  man  worthy  of  immortality  ;  that  although  Jesus 
had  proved  the  reality  of  a  future  and  immortal  exist 
ence,  yet  he  had,  with  even  more  importunity,  and 
earnestness,  and  frequency,  laid  down  his  precepts 
touching  a  virtuous  life  on  earth.  He  finally  went 
into  the  Christian  argument  in  proof  of  a  future  exist 
ence,  and  exhorted  those  who  heard  him,  and  who 
desired  to  inhabit  the  Christian's  heaven,  to  live  the 
life  which  Christ  had  brought  to  light,  and  himself  had 
VOL.  i.  23 


262  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

exemplified  on  earth,  laboring  to  impress  their  minds 
with  the  fact,  that  it  was  a  superior  goodness  which 
made  Jesus  what  he  was,  and  that  it  must  be  by  a 
similar  goodness  that  his  followers  could  fit  themselves 
for  the  immortality  he  had  revealed.  All  this  was 
with  frequent  reference  to  existing  opinions  and  prac 
tices,  and  with  large  illustrations  drawn  from  ancient 
and  modern  religious  history. 

What  struck  me  most,  after  having  listened  to  the 
discourse  of  Probus  to  the  end,  was  the  practical  aim 
and  character  of  the  religion  he  preached.  It  was  no 
fanciful  speculation  nor  airy  dream.  It  was  not  a 
plaything  of  the  imagination  he  had  been  holding  up  to 
our  contemplation,  but  a  series  of  truths  and  doctrines 
bearing  with  eminent  directness,  and  with  a  perfect 
adaptation,  upon  human  life,  the  effect  and  issue  of 
which,  widely  and  cordially  received,  must  be  to  give 
birth  to  a  condition  of  humanity  not  now  any  where  to 
be  found  on  the  earth.  I  was  startled  by  no  confound 
ing  and  overwhelming  mysteries  ;  neither  my  faith  nor 
my  reason  was  burdened  or  offended;  but  I  was  shown, 
as  by  a  light  from  heaven,  how  truly  the  path  which 
leads  to  the  possession  and  enjoyment  of  a  future  ex 
istence  coincides  with  that  which  conducts  to  the  best 
happiness  of  earth.  It  was  a  religion  addressed  to  the 
reason  and  the  affections ;  and  evidence  enough  was 
afforded  in  the  representations  given  of  its  more  im 
portant  truths,  that  it  was  furnished  with  ample  power 
to  convince  and  exalt  the  reason,  to  satisfy  and  fill  the 
affections.  No  sooner  shall  I  have  returned  to  the 
leisure  of  my  home,  to  my  study  and  my  books,  than  I 
shall  seriously  undertake  an  examination  of  the  Chris- 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  263 

dan  argument.  It  surely  becomes  those  who  fill  the 
place  in  the  social  state  which  I  do,  to  make  up  an 
intelligent  judgment  upon  a  question  like  this,  so  that  I 
may  stand  prepared  to  defend  it,  and  urge  it  upon  my 
countrymen,  if  I  am  convinced  of  its  truth  and  of  its 
advantage  to  my  country,  or  assail  and  oppose  it,  if  I 
shall  determine  it  to  be  what  it  is  so  frequently  termed, 
a  pernicious  and  hateful  superstition. 

When  the  discourse  was  ended,  of  the  power  and 
various  beauty  of  which  I  cannot  pretend  properly  to 
acquaint  you,  another  prayer  longer  and  more  general 
was  offered,  to  parts  of  which  there  were  responses  by 
the  hearers.  Then,  as  a  regular  part  of  the  service, 
voluntary  offerings  and  gifts  were  made  by  those  present 
for  the  poor.  More  than  once,  as  a  part  of  the  worship, 
hymns  were  sung  to  some  plain  and  simple  air,  in 
which  all  the  assembly  joined.  Sometimes,  to  the 
services  which  I  witnessed,  Probus  informed  me  there  is 
added  a  further  ceremony,  called  the  *  Lord's  supper,' 
being  a  social  service,  during  which  bread  and  wine 
are  partaken  of,  in  memory  of  Jesus  Christ.  This  was 
the  occasion,  in  former  times,  of  heavy  charges  against 
the  Christians  of  rioting  and  intemperance,  and  even 
of  more  serious  crimes.  But  Probus  assures  me  that 
the  last  were  even  then  groundless,  and  that  now 
nothing  can  be  more  blameless  than  this  simple  spiritual 
repast. 

The  worship  being  ended,  and  Probus  having  de 
scended  from  his  seat,  I  accosted  him,  giving  him  what 
I  am  certain  were  very  sincere  thanks  for  the  informa 
tion  I  had  obtained  from  his  oration,  concerning  the 
primary  articles  of  the  Christian  faith. 


264  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

'  It  has  been,'  said  he  in  reply,  *  with  utmost  satis 
faction,  that  I  beheld  a  person  of  your  rank  and  intelli 
gence  among  my  hearers.  The  change  of  the  popular 
belief  throughout  the  Roman  empire,  which  must  come, 
will  be  a  less  tumultuous  one,  in  proportion  as  we  can 
obtain  even  so  much  as  a  hearing  from  those  who  sit 
at  the  head  of  society  in  rank  and  intelligence.  Let 
me  make  a  sincere  convert  of  a  Roman  emperor,  and 
in  a  few  years  the  temples  of  Paganism  would  lie  even 
with  the  ground.  Believe  me,  Christianity  has  pene 
trated  deeper  and  farther, than  you  in  the  seats  of  power 
dream  of.  While  you  are  satisfied  with  things  as  they 
are,  and  are  content  to  live  on  and  enjoy  the  leisure 
and  honors  the  gods  crown  you  with,  the  classes  below 
you,  less  absorbed  by  the  things  of  the  world — because 
perhaps  having  fewer  of  them, — give  their  thoughts  to 
religion  and  the  prospects  which  it  holds  out  of  a  hap 
pier  existence  after  the  present.  Having  little  here, 
they  are  less  tied  to  the  world  than  others,  and  more 
solicitous  concerning  the  more  and  the  better,  of  which 
Christianity  speaks.' 

*  I  am  not  insensible,'  I  replied,  '  to  the  truth  of  what 
you  say.  The  cruelties,  moreover,  exercised  by  the 
emperors  toward  the  Christians,  the  countless  examples 
of  those  who  have  died  in  torments  for  the  truth  of 
this  religion,  have  drawn  largely  and  deeply  upon  the 
sympathy,  of  the  general  heart,  and  disposed  it  favorably 
toward  belief.  In  Rome,  surrounded  by  ancient  asso 
ciations,  embosomed  in  a  family  remarkable  for  its 
attachment  to  the  ancient  order  of  things;  friends  of 
power,  of  letters,  and  philosophy,  I  hardly  was  conscious 
of  the  existence  of  such  a  thing  as  Christianity.  The 


Z  £  N  0  B  I  A  .  265 

name  was  never  heard  where  I  moved.  Portia,  my 
noble  mother,  with  a  heart  beating  warm  for  every 
thing  human,  instinctively  religious  beyond  any  whom 
I  have  ever  seen  or  known,  of  the  Christian  or  any 
other  faith,  living  but  to  increase  the  happiness  of  all 
around  her,  was  yet — shall  I  say  it  ? — a  bigot  to  the 
institutions  of  her  country.  The  government  and  the 
religion  under  which  all  the  Pisos  had  lived  and  flour 
ished,  which  had  protected  the  rights  and  nursed  the 
virtues  of  her  great  husband  and  his  family,  were  good 
enough  for  her,  for  her  children,  and  for  all.  Her  ear 
was  closed  against  the  sound  of  Christianity,  as  natu 
rally  as  an  adder's  against  all  sound.  She  could  not, 
and  never  did  hear  it.  From  her  I  received  my  prin 
ciples  and  first  impressions.  Not  even  the  history,  nor 
so  much  as  a  word  of  the  sufferings,  of  the  Christians 
ever  fell  on  my  ear.  I  grew  up  in  all  things  a  Piso  ; 
the  true  child  of  my  mother,  in  all  save  her  divine  vir 
tues.  And  it  was  not  till  a  few  years  since,  when  I 
broke  loose  from  domestic  and  Roman  life,  and  travelled 
to  Greece  and  Egypt,  and  now  to  the  East,  that  I  be 
came  practically  aware  of  the  existence  of  such  a  people 
as  the  Christians ;  and  my  own  is,  I  suppose,  but  a 
specimen  of  the  history  of  my  order.  I  now  perceive, 
that  while  we  have  slept,  truth  has  been  advancing  its 
posts,  till  the  very  citadel  of  the  world  is  about  to  be 
scaled.  The  leaven  of  Christianity  is  cast  into  the  lump, 
and  will  work  its  necessary  end.  It  now,  I  apprehend, 
will  matter  but  little  what  part  the  noble  and  the  learned 
shall  take,  or  even  the  men  in  power.  The  people 
have  taken  theirs,  and  the  rest  must  follow,  at  least 
VOL.  i.  23* 


266  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

submit.  Do  I  over-estimate  the  inroads  of  the  religion 
upon  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  world  ? ' 

4 1  am  persuaded  you  do  not,'  replied  the  Christian. 
'  Give  me,  as  I  said  before,  one  Roman  emperor  for  a 
convert,  and  I  will  insure  the  immediate  and  final 
triumph  of  Christianity.  But  in  the  mean  time,  another 
Nero,  another  Domitian,  another  Decius,  may  arise,  and 
the  bloody  acts  of  other  persecutions  stain  the  annals 
of  our  guilty  empire.' 

'  The  gods  forbid ! '  said  I ;  'yet  who  shall  say  it 
may  not  be  !  Much  as  I  honor  Aurelian  for  his  many 
virtues,  I  feel  not  sure  that  in  the  right  hands  he  might 
not  be  roused  to  as  dark  deeds  as  any  before  him — 
darker  they  would  be — inasmuch  as  his  nature  for 
sternness  and  severity  has  not,  I  think,  been  equalled. 
If  the  mild  and  just  Valerian  could  be  so  wrought  upon 
by  the  malignant  Macrianus,  what  security  have  we  in 
the  case  of  Aurelian  ?  He  is  naturally  superstitious.' 

*  O  that  in  Aurelian,'  said  the  Christian,  '  were  lodg 
ed  the  woman's  heart  of    Zenobia ! — we  then   could 
trust  to-morrow  as  well  as  enjoy  to-day.     Here  no  laws 
seal  the  lips  of  the  Christian :  he  may  tell  his  tale  to 
as  many  as  choose  to  hear.     I  learn,  since  my  arrival, 
that  the  Princess  Julia  is  favorably  inclined   toward 
the  Christian  cause.     Dost  thou  know  what  the  truth 
may  be  ? ' 

*  It  is  certain  that  she  admires  greatly  the  character 
and  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  and  I  should  think,  believes ; 
but  she  does  not  as  yet  openly  confess  herself  a  follower 
of  the  Nazarene.     She  is  perhaps  as  much  a  Christian 
as  Zenobia  is  a  Jewess.' 


ZEN  OBI  A.  267 

'  I  may  well  rejoice  in  that,'  replied  the  Christian, 
yes,  and  do.' 

The  lights  of  the  apartment  were  now  extinguished, 
and  we  parted. 

If  I  am  ever  again  in  Rome,  my  Curtius,  it  shall  be 
my  care  to  bring  to  your  acquaintance  and  Lucilia's, 
the  Christian  Probus.  Farewell! 


NOTE. 

SOME  readers  may  be  pleased  to  be  able  to  compare 
together  the  representations  of  Piso  and  those  of  Pollio. 

"  Et  quidem  peregrina,  nomine  Zenobia,  de  qua  jam  multa 
dicta  sunt,  quse  se  de  Cleopatrarum.  Ptolemaeorumque  gente 
jactaret,  post  Odenatum  maritum  imperial!  sagulo  perfuso  per 
humeros  habitu,  donis  ornata,  diademate  etiam  accepto,  nomine 
filiorum  Herenniani  et  Timolai  diutius  quam  fgemineus  sexus 
patiebatur,  imperavit.  Si  quidem  G-allieno  adhuc  regente 
Remp.  regale  mulier  superba  munus  obtinuit  •  et  Claudio  bellis 
Gotthicis  occupato,  vix  denique  ab  Aureliano  victa  et  trium- 
phata,  concessit  in  jura  Rom."  "  Vixit  (Zenobia)  regali  pompa, 
more  magis  Persico.  Adorata  est  more  regum  Persarum.  Con- 
vivata  est  imperatorum,  more  Rom.  Ad  conciones  galeata 
processit,  cum  limbo  purpureo,  gemmis  dependentibus  per  ulti- 
mam  fimbriam  media  etiam  cyclade  veluti  fibula  muliebri  as- 
tricta,  brachio  saepe  nudo.  Fuit  vultu  subaquilo  fusci  coloris, 
oculis  supra  modum  *vigentibus,  nigris,  spiritus  divini,  venus- 
tatis  incredibilis  ;  tantus  candor  in  dentibus,  ut  margaritas  earn 
plerique  putarent  habere,  non  denies.  Vox  clara  et  virilis ; 
severitas,  ubi  necessitas  postulabat,  tyrannorum  j  bonorum 

*  Ingentibus. 


270  NOTE. 

principum  dementia,  ubi  pietas  requirebat.  Larga  prudenter, 
conservatrix  thesaurorum  ultra  faemineum  modum.  Usa 
vehiculo  carpentario,  raro  pilento,  equo  saepius.  Fertur  autem 
vel  tria,  vel  quatuor  milliaria  frequenter  earn  peditibus  ambu« 
Jasse.  Nata  est  Hispanorum  Cupiditate ;  bibit  seepe  cum 
ducibus,  quum  esset  alias  sobria  j  bibit  etiam  cum  Persis  atque 
Armeniis,  ut  eos  vinceret.  Usa  est  vasis  aureis  gemmatis  ad 
convivia,  quibus  et  Cleopatra  usa  est.  In  ministerio  Eunuchos, 
gravioris  aetatis  habuit,  puellas  nimis  raras.  Filios  Latine 
loqui  jusserat,  adeo  ut  Greece  vel  difficile  vel  raro  loquerentur. 
Ipsa  Latini  sermonis  non  usquequaque  ignara,  sed  loqueretur 
pudore  cohibita  ;  loquebaturet  Egyptiace  ad  perfectum  modum. 
Histories  Alexandrine  atque  Orientalis  ita  perita  ut  earn  epi- 
tomasse  hicatur  :  Lalinam  autem  Greece  legerat."  "Ducta  est 
igitur  per  triumphum  ea  specie  ut  nihil  pompabilius  populo 
Rom.  vederetur,  jam  primum  ornata  gemmis  ingentibus,  ita  at 
ornamentorum  onere  laboraret.  Fertur  enim  mulier  fortissima 
ssepissime  restitisse,  quum  diceret  se  gemmorum  onera  ferre 
non  posse.  Vincti  erant  preterea  pedes  auro,  manus  etiam 
catenis  aureis ;  nee  collo  aureum  vinculum  deerat,  quod  scurra 
Persicus  prseferebat.  Huic  ab  Aureliano  vivere  concessum  est. 
Ferturque  vixisse  cum  liberis,  matrons  jam  more  Romanse, 
data  sibi  possessione  in  Tiburti  quse  hodieque  Zenobia  dicitur, 
non  longe  ab  Adriani  palatio,  atque  ab  eo  loco  cui  nomen  est 
Conche."— Hist.  Aug.  Lugd.  Batav.  1661,  p.  787. 

"  Ille  (Odenatus)  plane  cum  uxore  Zenobia  non  solum  Orien- 
tem  quern  jam  in  pristinum  reformaverat  statum,  sed  omnes 
omnino  totius  orbis  partes  reformasset,  vir  acer  in  bellis,  et, 
quantum  plerique  scriptores  loquuntur,  venatu  memorabili  sem 
per  inclytus,  qui  a  prima  setate  capiendis  leonibus  et  pardis, 
cervis,  caeterisque  sylvestribus  animalibus,  sudorem  officii 
virilis  impendit,  quique  semper  in  sylvis  ac  montibus  vixit, 
perferens  calorem,  pluvias,  et  omnia  mala  que  in  se  continent 
venatorice  voluptate-s  ;  quibus  duratis,  solein  ac  pulverem  in 
bellis  Persicis  tulit.  Non  aliter  etiam  conjuge  assueta,  quaa 
multorum  sententia  fortior  marito  fuisse  perhibetur  ;  mulierum 
omnium  nobil-issima,  Orientalium  faeminarum  et  (ut  Cornelius 
Capitolinus  asserit)  speciocissima." — Ib.  p.  771 


NOTE.  271 

Also  what  Aurelian  himself  says  in  a  letter  to  the 
Roman  Senate,  preserved  by  Pollio. 

"  Audio,  P.  C.  mihi  objici  quod  non  virile  munus  impleverim, 
Zenobiam  triumphando.  Nae  illi  qui  me  reprehendunt  satis 
laudarant,  si  scirent  qualis  ilia  est  mulier,  quam  prudens  in 
consiliis,  quam  constans  in  dispositionibus,  quam  erga  milites 
gravis,  quam  larga  quum  necessitas  postulet,  quam  tristis 
quum  severitas  poscat.  Possum  dicere  illius  esse  quod  Odena- 
tus  Persos  vicit,  ac  Sapore  fugato  Ctesiphontem  usque  pervenit. 
Possum  asserere,  tanto  apud  Orientalis  et  Egyptiorum  populos 
timori  mulierem  fuisse,  ut  se  non  Arabes,  non  Sarraeeni,  non 
Armeni  commoverent.  Nee  ego  illi  vitam  conservassem  nisi 
earn  scissem  multum  Rom.  Repub.  profuisse,  quum  sibi,  vel 
liberis  suis  Orientis  servaret  imperium,"  etc. 


ZENOBIA; 

OB, 

THE  FALL  OF  PALMYKA 


ZENOBIA; 


<fall   of    falmgra, 


IN  LETTERS  OF  L.   MANLIUS  PISO,   FROM  PALMYRA,   TO 
HIS  FRIEND  MARCUS  CURTIUS  AT  ROME. 

BY 

WILLIAM   WARE, 

ATTTHOB    OF     "AUBBLIAH,"     *«*tTLIAN,"     KTO. 

NINTH    EDITION. 
TWO     VOLUMES    COMPLETE    IN    ONE. 

VOL.   II. 


C.    S.    FRANCIS    AND    COMPANY 

BOSTONr-CEOSBY,  NICHOLS  AND  CO. 
M.DCCC.LIV. 


Entered,  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1838, 

by   CHARLES    S.  FRANCIS, 
in  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


ZENOBIA. 


LETTER    X. 

As  I  returned  from  the  worship  of  the  Christians  to 
the  house  of  Gracchus,  my  thoughts  wandered  from 
the  subjects  which  had  just  occupied  my  mind  to  the 
condition  of  the  country,  and  the  prospect  now  growing 
more  and  more  portentous  of  an  immediate  rupture  with 
Rome.  On  my  way  I  passed  through  streets  of  more 
than  Roman  magnificence,  exhibiting  all  .the  signs  of 
wealth,  taste,  refinement,  and  luxury.  The  happy, 
light-hearted  populace  were  moving  through  them, 
enjoying  at  their  leisure  the  calm  beauty  of  the  evening, 
or  hastening  to  or  from  some  place  of  festivity.  The 
earnest  tone  of  conversation,  the  loud  laugh,  the  witty 
retort,  the  merry  jest,  fell  upon  my  ear  from  one  and 
another  as  I  passed  along.  From  the  windows  of  the 
palaces  of  the  merchants  and  nobles,  the  rays  of  innu- 

VOL.    II.  I* 


ZEN  OBI A  . 

merable  lights  streamed  across  my  path,  giving  to  the 
streets  almost  the  brilliancy  of  day ;  and  the  sound  of 
music,  either  of  martial  instruments,  or  of  the  harp 
accompanied  by  the  voice,  at  every  turn  arrested  my 
attention,  and  made  me  pause  to  listen. 

A  deep  melancholy  came  over  me.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  the  days  of  this  people  were  numbered,  and  that 
the  gods  intending  their  ruin  had  first  made  them  mad. 
Their  gayety  appeared  to  me  no  other  than  madness. 
They  were  like  the  gladiators  of  our  circuses,  who, 
doomed  to  death,  pass  the  last  days  of  life  in  a  delirium 
of  forced  and  frantic  joy.  Many  of  the  inhabitants  I 
could  not  but  suppose  utterly  insensible  to  the  dangers 
which  impend — or  ignorant  of  them;  but  more  I 
believe  are  cheerful,  and  even  gay,  through  a  mad 
contempt  of  them.  They  look  back  upon  their  long 
and  uninterrupted  prosperity — they  call  to  mind  their 
late  glorious  achievements  under  Odenatus  and  their 
Queen — they  think  of  the  wide  extent  of  their  empire 
— they  remember  that  Longinus  is  their  minister,  and 
Zenobia  still  their  Queen — and  give  their  fears  to  the 
winds.  A  contest  with  Rome  they  approach  as  they 
would  the  games  of  the  amphitheatre. 

The  situation  of  their  city,  defended  as  it  is  by  the 
wide-stretching  deserts,  is  indeed  enough  of  itself  to 
inspire  the  people  with  a  belief  that  it  is  impregnable. 
It  requires  an  effort,  I  am  aware,  to  admit  the  likelihood 
of  an  army  from  the  far  west  first  overcoming  the 
dangers  of  the  desert,  and  then  levelling  the  walls  of 
the  city,  which  seem  more  like  ramparts  of  Nature's 
making  so  massy  are  they,  than  any  work  of  man.  And 
the  Palmyrenes  have  certainly  also  some  excuse  in  the 


ZE  NOBIA.  7 

wretched  management  of  our  generals,  ever  since  the 
expedition  of  Valerian,  and  in  the  brilliancy  of  their 
own  achievements,  for  thinking  well  of  themselves,  and 
anticipating,  without  much  apprehension  for  the  issue, 
a  war  with  us.  But  these  and  the  like  apologies, 
however  they  may  serve  for  the  common  people,  surely 
are  of  no  force  in  their  application  to  the  intelligent, 
and  such  as  fill  the  high  places  of  the  kingdom.  They 
know  that  althorgh  upon  some  mere  question  of  honor 
or  of  boundary,  it  might  be  very  proper  and  politic  to 
fight  a  single  battle  rather  than  tamely  submit  to  an 
encroachment,  it  is  quite  another  thing  when  the  only 
aim  of  the  war  is  to  see  which  is  the  stronger  of  the 
two — which  is  to  be  master.  This  last,  what  is  it  but 
madness  ?  the  madness  of  pride  and  ambition  in  the 
Queen — in  the  people  the  madness  of  a  love  and  a 
devotion  to  her,  unparalleled  since  the  world  began. 
A  blindness  as  of  death  has  seized  them  all. 

Thinking  of  these  things,  and  full  of  saddest  fore 
bodings  as  to  the  fate  of  this  most  interesting  and 
polished  people,  I  reached  the  gate  of  the  palace  of 
Gracchus.  The  inmates,  Gracchus  and  Fausta,  I 
learned  from  Milo,  were  at  the  palace  of  the  Queen, 
whither  I  was  instructed  by  them  to  resort  at  the 
request  of  Zenobia  herself.  The  chariot  of  my  host 
soon  bore  me  there.  It  was  with  pleasure  that  I  greeted 
this  unexpected  good  fortune.  I  had  not  even  seen  the 
Queen  since  the  day  passed  at  her  villa,  and  I  was  not 
a  little  desirous,  before  the  ambassadors  should  receive 
their  final  answer,  to  have  one  more  opportunity  of 
conversing  with  her. 

The  moment  I  entered  the   apartment  where  the 


8  ZfcNOBIA. 

Queen  was  with  her  guests,  I  perceived  that  all  state 
was  laid  aside,  and  that  we  were  to  enjoy  each  other 
with  the  same  social  ease  as  when  in  the  country,  or 
as  on  that  first  evening  in  the  gardens  of  the  palace. 
There  was  on  this  occasion  no  prostration,  and  no  slave 
crouched  at  her  feet ;  and  all  the  various  Persian  cer 
emonial,  in  which  this  proud  woman  so  delights,  was 
dispensed  with.  The  room  in  which  we  met  was  large, 
and  opening  on  two  of  its  sides  upon  those  lofty  Cor 
inthian  porticos,  which  add  so  greatly  to  the  magnifi 
cence  of  this  palace.  Light  was  so  disposed  as  to 
shed  a  soft  and  moon-like  radiance,  which,  without 
dazzling,  perfectly  revealed  every  person  and  object, 
even  to  the  minutest  beauties  of  the  paintings  upon  the 
walls,  and  of  the  statuary  that  offered  to  the  eye  the 
master-pieces  of  ancient  and  modern  sculpture.  The 
company  was  scattered  ;  some  being  seated  together  in 
conversation,  others  observing  the  works  of  art,  others 
pacing  the  marble  floors  of  the  porticos,  their  forms 
crossing  and  recrossing  the  ample  arched  door-ways 
which  opened  upon  them. 

'  We  feared,'  said  the  Queen,  advancing  toward  me 
as  I  entered,  '  that  we  were  not  to  be  so  happy  as  to 
see  you.  My  other  friends  have  already  passed  a 
precious  hour  with  me.  But  every  sacrifice  to  the 
affections,  be  it  ever  so  slight,  is  a  virtue,  and  there 
fore  you  are  still  an  object  of  praise,  rather  than  of 
censure.' 

I  said  in  reply  that  an  affair  of  consequence  had 
detained  me,  or  I  should  have  been  earlier  at  the  house 
of  Gracchus,  so  as  to  have  accompanied  Fausta. 

Fausta,  who  had  been  sitting  with  the  Queen,  now 


ZENOBIA.  9 

came  forward,  Julia  leaning  on  her  arm,  and  said, 
1  And  what  do  you  imagine  to  be  the  affair  of  conse 
quence  that  has  deprived  us  of  Piso's  company  ? ' 

'  I  cannot  tell,  indeed,'  replied  Zenobia. 

'  Julia  at  least,5  said  Fausta, '  will  applaud  him,  when 
she  hears  that  he  has  just  come  from  an  assembly  of 
Christians.  May  I  ask,  Lucius,  what  new  truth  you 
have  learned  with  which  to  enlighten  us  ?  But  your 
countenance  tells  me  I  must  not  jest.  There — let  me 
smooth  that  brow  and  make  my  peace.  But  in  seri 
ousness,  I  hope  your  Mediterranean  friend  rewarded 
you  for  the  hour  you  have  given  him,  and  deprived  us 
of?' 

*  I  wish,'  I  could  not  but  reply,  '  that  but  one  out  of 
every  thousand  hours  of  my  life  had  been  as  well 
rewarded,  and  it  would  not  have  been  so  worthless. 
The  Princess  may  believe  me  when  I  say  that  not  evenN, 
the  Bishop  of  Antioch  could  have  done  better  justice 
to  the  Christian  argument.  I  have  heard  this  evening 
a  Christian  of  the  name  of  Probus,  whose  history  I 
related — and  which  you  may  remember — at  the  tables, 
within  a  few  days  after  my  arrival  in  Palmyra.  He  is 
in  opinion  a  follower  of  Paul,  so  I  am  informed,  though 
not — you  Julia  will  be  glad  to  learn  it — in  his  manner 
of  life.  What  the  differences  are  which  separate  the 
Christians  from  one  another  in  their  belief,  I  know 
not.  I  only  know  that  truth  cannot  take  a  more  win 
ning  shape  than  that  in  which  it  came  from  the  lips  of 
Probus,  and  it  was  largely  supported  by  the  words  of 
the  founder  of  the  religion.  I  think  you  may  justly 
congratulate  your  city  and  your  subjects,'  I  continued 
addressing  Zenobia,  '  upon  the  labors  and  teaching  of 


10  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

a  man  like  Probus.  The  sentiments  which  he  utters 
are  such  as  must  tend  to  the  strength  of  any  govern 
ment  which  relies  for  its  support,  in  any  sense,  upon 
the  social  and  personal  virtues  of  the  people.  In 
implanting  the  virtues  of  justice,  temperance,  and 
piety,  and  in  binding  each  heart  to  every  other,  by  the 
bonds  of  a  love  which  this  religion  makes  itself  almost 
to  consist  in,  it  does  all  that  either  philosophy  or  reli 
gion  can  do  for  the  harmony  and  order  of  society,  the 
safety  of  governments,  and  the  peace  of  the  world.' 

1  You  speak  with  the  earnestness  of  a  deep  persua 
sion,  Roman,'  replied  the  Queen,  '  and  I  shall  not  forget 
the  name  and  office  of  the  person  whom  you  have  now 
named  to  me.  I  hear  with  pleasure  of  the  arrival  of 
any  teacher  of  truth  in  my  kingdom.  I  have  derived 
so  much  myself  from  the  influences  of  letters  and 
philosophy,  that  it  is  no  far-off  conclusion  for  me  to 
arrive  at,  that  my  people  must  be  proportionally  bene 
fited  by  an  easy  access  to  the  same  life-giving  fountains. 
Whatever  helps  to  quicken  thought,  and  create  or 
confirm  habits  of  reflection,  is  so  much  direct  service 
to  the  cause  of  humanity.  I  truly  believe  that  there  is 
no  obstacle  but  ignorance,  to  prevent  the  world  from 
attaining  a  felicity  and  a  virtue,  such  as  we  now  hardly 
dream  of — ignorance  respecting  the  first  principles  of 
philosophy  and  religion.  Knowledge  is  not  less 
essential  to  the  increase  and  elevation  of  virtue,  than 
it  is  to  the  further  advances  of  truth,  and  the  detection 
of  error.  Prove  the  truth,  and  mankind  will  always 
prefer  it  to  falsehood.  So  too,  demonstrate  wherein 
goodness  consists,  and  the  road  that  leads  to  it,  and 
mankind  will  prefer  it  to  vice.  Vice  is  a  mistake,  as 


ZENOBIA,  11 

well  as  a  fault ;  I  do  not  say  as  often.  I  fear  that  the 
Christian  teachers  are  occupying  themselves  and  their 
disciples  too  much  about  mere  speculative  and  fanciful 
distinctions,  while  they  give  too  little  heed  to  that 
which  alone  is  of  any  consequence,  virtue.  In  this, 
Longinus,'  turning  towards  the  philosopher,  who  had 
now  joined  us,  *  I  think  they  affect  to  imitate  the  com 
mentators  and  living  expositors  of  the  great  Plato.  I 
have  heard  from  Paul  of  Samosata  accounts  of  differ 
ences  among  Christians,  where  the  points  were  quite 
too  subtle  for  my  understanding  to  appreciate.  They 
reminded  me  of  the  refinements  of  some  of  the  young 
adventurers  from  Athens,  who  occasionally  have  re 
sorted  here  for  the  purpose  of  elucidating  the  doctrines 
of  your  great  master — pseudo-philosophers  and  tyros, 
I  perceive  you  are  waiting  to  term  them.  Is  it  so  that 
you  denominate  Polemo  the  Athenian,  who  as  I  learn 
is  now  here  with  the  benevolent  design  of  enlightening 
my  people  ? ' 

*  He  is  a  man,'  replied  Longinus,  '  hardly  worthy  to 
be  named  in  this  connection  and  this  presence  at  all. 
I  have  neither  met  him  nor  heard  him,  nor  do  I  desire 
to  do  so.  It  is  through  the  mischievous  intermeddling 
of  such  as  he  that  the  honorable  name  and  office  of 
philosopher  are  brought  into  contempt.  It  requires 
more  intellect  than  ever  enlightens  the  soul  of  Polemo, 
to  comprehend  the  lofty  truth  of  Plato.  I  trust  that 
when  it  has  been  my  pleasure  to  unfold  the  sense  of 
that  great  teacher,  it  has  not  been  found  to  be  either 
unprofitable,  or  unintelligible  ? ' 

Zenobia  smiled  and  said,  '  I  must  confess  that  at 
times,  as  I  have  ever  frankly  stated,  my  mind  has  been 


ZEN  OBI  A. 

a  little  tasked.  There  has  been  but  an  approach  to  a 
perfect  idea.  But  I  do  not  say  that  a  perfect  concep 
tion  has  not  been  presented.  So  that  when  this  has 
happened,  Longinus  being  the  teacher,  and  Zenobia 
and  Julia  the  pupils,  I  cannot  doubt  that  when  the  task 
is  entrusted  to  less  cultivated  minds — the  task  both  of 
teaching  and  learning — it  must  frequently  end  in  what 
it  might  be  rash  to  term  light  or  knowledge.' 

*  I  grieve,  0  Queen,'  replied  Longinus,  smiling  in 
his  turn,  '  that  both  you  and  the  Princess  should  have 
possessed  so  little  affinity  for  the  soul-purifying  and 
elevating  doctrines  of  the  immortal  Plato — that  you, 
Queen,  should  have  even  preferred  the  dark  annals  of 
Egyptian  and  Assyrian  history  and  politics,  and  the 
Greek  learning ;  and  you,  Princess,  should  have  fixed 
your  affections  upon  this,  not  new-found  philosophy, 
but  new-invented  religion,  of  the  Christians.     I  still 
anticipate  the  happiness  to  lead  you  both  into  the  groves 
of  the  academy,  and  detain  you  there,  where  and  where 
only  are  seats  that  well  become  you.' 

*  But  is  it  not,'  I  ventured  here  to  suggest,  *  some 
objection  to  the  philosophy  of  Plato  as  the  guide  of  life, 
that  it  requires  minds  of  the  very  highest  order  to 
receive  it?     Philosophy,  methinks,  should  be  some 
thing  of  such  potency,  yet  at  the  same  time  of  such 
simplicity,  that  it  should  not  so  much  require  a  lofty 
and  elevated  intellect  to  admit  it,  as  tend,  being  received 
readily  and  easily  by  minds   of  a  humbler  order,  to 
raise  them  up  to  itself.     Now  this,  so  far  as  I  under 
stand  it,  is  the  character  of  the  Christian  philosophy — 
for  philosophy  I  must  think  it  deservedly  called.     It  is 
admitted  into  the  mind  with  ease.     But  once  being 
there,  its  operation  is  continually  to  exalt  and  refine  it 


Z  £  N  0  B  I  A  .  13 

—leading  it  upwards  forever  to  some  higher  point  than 
it  has  hitherto  arrived  at.  I  do  not  deny  an  elevating 
power  to  your  philosophy  when  once  an  inmate  of  the 
soul — I  only  assert  the  difficulty  of  receiving  it  on  the 
part  of  the  common  mind.' 

'  And  the  common  mind  has  nothing  to  do,'  replied 
the  Greek,  '  with  Plato  or  his  wisdom.  They  are  for 
minds  of  a  higher  order.  Why  should  the  man  who 
makes  my  sandals  and  my  cloak  be  at  the  same  time 
a  philosopher?  Would  he  be  the  happier?  In  my 
opinion,  it  would  but  increase  his  discontent.  Every 
stitch  that  he  set  would  be  accompanied  by  the  reflec 
tion,  "What  a  poor  employment  is  this  for  a  soul  like 
mine,  imbued  with  the  best  wisdom  of  Greece,"  and  if 
this  did  not  make  him  miserable  at  his  task,  it  would 
make  him  contemptible  when  he  should  forsake  it  to 
do  the  work  of  some  Polerno — who,  it  may  safely  be 
presumed,  has  made  some  such  exchange  of  occupation. 
No.  Philosophy  is  not  for  the  many,  but  tbe  few. 
Parts  there  are  of  it  which  may  descend  and  become  a 
common  inheritance.  Other  parts  there  are,  and  it  is 
of  these  I  speak,  which  may  not.' 

'  Therein,'  I  rejoined,  '  I  discern  its  inferiority  to 
Christianity,  which  appeals  to  all  and  is  suited  to  all,  to 
lowest  as  well  as  highest,  to  highest  as  well  as  lowest.' 

*  But  I  remember  to  have  been  told,'  said  the  Greek 
in  reply,   *  that  Christian  teachers  too  have  their  mys 
teries — their   doctrines   for   the   common   people,  and 
their  refinements  for  the  initiated.' 

*  I  have  heard  not  of  it,'  I  answered  ;  « if  it  be  so  I 
should  lament  it.     It  would    detract   from  its  value 
greatly  in  my  judgment.' 

VOL.  n.  2 


14  ZENOBIA. 

'Where  your  information  fails,  Piso,  mine  perhaps 
may  serve,'  said  Julia,  as  I  paused  at  fault.  *  It  is  in 
deed  true,  as  has  been  hinted  by  Longinus,  that  some 
of  the  Christian  doctors,  through  their  weak  and 
mistaken  ambition  to  assimilate  their  faith  the  nearest 
possible  to  the  Greek  philosophy,  have  magnified  the 
points  in  which  the  least  resemblance  could  be  traced 
between  them ;  and  through  the  force  of  a  lively 
imagination  have  discovered  resemblances  which  exist 
only  in  their  fancies.  These  they  make  their  boast 
of,  as  showing  that  if  Platonism  be  to  be  esteemed  for 
its  most  striking  peculiarities,  the  very  same,  or  ones 
nearly  corresponding,  exist  also  in  Christianity.  Thus 
they  hope  to  recommend  their  faith  to  the  lovers  of 
philosophy.  Many  have  by  these  means  been  drawn 
over  to  it,  and  have  not  afterward  altered  any  of  their 
modes  of  life,  and  scarce  any  of  their  opinions;  still 
wearing  the  philosopher's  robe  and  teaching  their  for 
mer  doctrines,  slightly  modified  by  a  tincture  of  Chris 
tianity.  However  the  motive  for  such  accommodation 
may  be  justified,  it  has  already  resulted  and  must  do 
so  more  and  more  to  the  corruption  and  injury  of 
Christianity.  This  religion,  or  philosophy,  whichever 
it  should  be  called,  ought  however,'  continued  the 
Princess,  addressing  particularly  the  Greek,  '  certainly 
to  be  judged  on  its  own  merits,  and  not  by  the  conduct 
or  opinions  of  injudicious,  weak,  or  dishonest  advocates. 
You  are  not  willing  that  Plato  should  be  judged  by  the 
criticisms  of  a  Polemo?  but  insist  that  the  student 
should  go  to  the  pages  of  the  philosopher  himself,  or 
else  to  some  living  expositor  worthy  of  him.  So  the 
Christian  may  say  of  Christianity.  I  have  been  a  reader 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  15 

of  the  Christian  records,  and  I  can  say,  that  such  secret 
and  mysterious  doctrines  as  you  allude  to,  are  not  to 
be  found  there.  Moreover,  I  can  refer  you,  for  the 
same  opinion,  to  Paul  of  Antioch — I  wish  he  were 
here — who,  however  he  may  depart  from  the  simplicity 
of  the  Christian  life,  maintains  the  simplicity  of  its 
doctrine.' 

'  You  have  well  shown,  my  fair  pupil,'  replied  the 
philosopher,  '  that  the  imputation  upon  Christianity,  of 
a  secret  and  interior  doctrine  for  the  initiated  alone,  is 
unjust,  but  therein  have  you  deprived  it  of  the  very 
feature  that  would  commend  it  to  the  studious  and  in 
quisitive.  It  may  present  itself  as  a  useful  moral  guide 
to  the  common  mind,  but  scarcely  can  it  hope  to  obtain 
that  enthusiastic  homage  of  souls  imbued  with  the  love 
of  letters,  and  of  a  refined  speculation,  which  binds  in 
such  true-hearted  devotion  every  follower  of  Plato  to 
the  doctrine  of  his  divine  master.' 

At  this  moment  Zabdas  arid  Otho  entered  the  apart 
ment,  and  drawing  near  to  our  group  to  salute  the 
Queen,  our  conversation  was  broken  off.  I  took  occa 
sion,  while  this  ceremony  was  going  through,  to  turn 
aside  and  survey  the  various  beauty  and  magnificence 
of  the  room,  with  its  rare  works  of  art.  In  this  I  was 
joined  by  Longinus,  who,  with  a  taste  and  a  power 
which  I  have  seen  in  no  other,  descanted  upon  the 
more  remarkable  of  the  pictures  and  statues,  not  in  the 
manner  of  a  lecturer,  but  with  a  fine  perception  and 
observance  of  that  nice  line  which  separates  the  learned 
philosopher  from  the  polite  man  of  the  world.  He  was 
both  at  once.  He  never  veiled  his  learning  or  his 
genius,  and  yet  never,  by  the  display  of  either,  jarred 


16  ZENOBIA. 

the  sensibilities  of  the  most  refined  and  cultivated 
taste. 

When  we  had  in  this  way  passed  through  the 
apartment,  and  were  standing  looking  toward  where 
Zenobia  sat  engaged  in  earnest  conversation  with 
Gracchus  and  Zabdas,  Longinus  said, 

*  Do  you  observe  the  restlessness  of  the  Queen,  and 
that  flush  upon  her  cheek?  She  is  thinking  of  to 
morrow  and  of  the  departure  of  the  ambassadors. 
And  so  too  is  it  with  every  other  here.  We  speak 
of  other  things,  but  the  mind  dwells  but  upon  one.  I 
trust  the  Queen  will  not  lose  this  fair  occasion  to 
gather  once  more  the  opinions  of  those  who  most  love 
and  honor  her.  Piso,  you  have  seen  something  of 
the  attachment  of  this  people  to  their  Queen.  But 
you  know  not  the  one  half  of  the  truth.  There  is 
not  a  living  man  in  Palmyra,  save  only  Antiochus, 
who  would  not  lay  down  his  life  for  Zenobia.  I 
except  not  myself.  This  attachment  is  founded  in 
part  upon  great  and  admirable  qualities.  But  it  is  to 
be  fully  explained  only  when  I  name  the  fascinations 
Df  a  manner  and  a  beauty  such  as  poets  have  feigned 
in  former  ages,  but  which  never  have  been  realized 
till  now.  I  acknowledge  it, — we  are  slaves  yoked  to 
her  car,  and  ask  no  higher  felicity  or  glory.' 

'  I  wonder  not,'  said  I ;  '  though  a  Roman,  I  have 
hardly  myself  escaped  the  common  fate  ;  you  need  not 
be  surprised  to  see  me  drawn,  by-and-by,  within  the 
charmed  circle,  and  binding  upon  my  own  neck  the 
silken  chains  and  the  golden  yoke.  But  see,  the  Queen 
asks  our  audience.' 

We    accordingly   moved    toward    the   seat   which 


ZENOBIA.  17 

Zenobia  now  occupied,  surrounded  by  her  friends,  some 
being  seated  and  others  standing  without  order  around 
her. 

*  Good  friends,'  she  said,  '  I  believe  one  thought 
fills  every  mind  present  here.  Is  it  not  better  that  we 
give  it  utterance  ?  I  need  the  sympathy  and  the  coun 
sel  of  those  who  love  me.  But  I  ask  not  only  for  the 
opinions  of  those  who  agree  with  me,  but  as  sincerely 
for  those  of  such  as  may  differ  from  me.  You  know 
me  well  in  this,  that  I  refuse  not  to  hearken  to  reasons, 
the  strongest  that  can  be  devised,  although  they  oppose 
my  own  settled  judgment.  Upon  an  occasion  like  this 
it  would  ill  become  the  head  of  a  great  empire  to  shut 
out  the  slenderest  ray  of  light  that  from  any  quarter 
might  be  directed  upon  the  questions  which  so  deeply 
interest  and  agitate  us.  I  believe  that  the  great  heart 
of  my  people  goes  with  me  in  the  resolution  I  have 
taken,  and  am  supported  in  by  my  council ;  but  I  am 
well  aware,  that  minds  not  inferior  to  any  in  strength, 
and  hearts  that  beat  not  less  warmly  toward  their 
country  and  toward  me  than  any  others,  are  opposed 
to  that  resolution,  and  anticipate  nought  but  disaster 
and  ruin  from  a  conflict  with  the  masters  of  the  world. 
Let  us  freely  open  our  minds  each  to  other,  and  let  no 
one  fear  to  offend  me,  but  by  withholding  his  full  and 
free  opinion.' 

'  We  who  know  our  Queen  so  well,'  said  Gracchus, 
'hardly  need  these  assurances.  Were  I  as  bitterly 
opposed  to  the  measures  proposed  as  I  am  decidedly 
in  favor  of  them,  I  should  none  the  less  fearlessly  and 
frankly  declare  the  reasons  of  my  dissent.  I  am  sure 

VOL.       Ilr  2* 


18 


2E  N  OBI  A 


that  every  one  here  experiences  the  freedom  you  en 
join.  But  who  will  need  to  use  it?  For  are  we  not 
of  one  mind  ?  I  see  indeed  one  or  two  who  oppose 
the  general  sentiment.  But  for  the  rest,  one  spirit 
animates  all,  and  what  is  more,  to  the  farthest  limits 
of  the  kingdom  am  I  persuaded  the  same  spirit 
spreads,  and  possesses  and  fills  every  soul.  The 
attempt  of  Aurelian  to  control  us  in  our  affairs,  to 
dictate  to  us  concerning  the  limits  of  our  empire  so 
far  removed,  is  felt  to  be  a  wanton  freak  of  despotic 
power,  which,  if  it  be  not  withstood  in  its  first  encroach 
ment,  may  proceed  to  other  acts  less  tolerable  still,  and 
which  may  leave  us  scarcely  our  name  as  a  distinct 
people — and  that  covered  with  shame.  Although  a 
Roman  by  descent,  I  advocate  not  Eoman  intolerance. 
I  can  see  and  denounce  injustice  in  Aurelian  as  well 
as  in  another.  Palmyra  is  rny  country  and  Zenobia 
my  Queen,  and  when  I  seek  not  their  honor,  may  my 
own  fall  blasted  and  ruined.  I  stand  ready  to  pledge 
for  them  in  this  emergency,  what  every  other  man  of 
Palmyra  holds  it  his  privilege  to  offer,  my  property 
and  my  life,  and  if  I  have  any  possession  dearer  than 
these,  I  am  ready  to  bring  and  lay  it  upon  the  same 
altar.' 

The  eyes  of  Zenobia  filled  at  the  generous  enthusi 
asm  of  her  faithful  counsellor — and,  for  Fausta,  it  was 
only  a  look  and  sign  of  the  Queen  that  held  her  to  her 
seat. 

Longinus  then,  as  seemed  to  be  his  place,  entered 
at  length  into  the  merits  of  the  question.  He  did  not 
hesitate  to  say  that  at  the  first  outbreak  of  these  diffi 
culties  he  had  been  in  favor  of  such  concessions  to  the 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  19 

pride  of  Rome  as  would  perhaps  have  appeased  her 
and  cast  no  indignity  upon  Palmyra.  He  did  not 
scruple  to  add  that  he  had  deeply  disapproved  and 
honestly  censured  that  rash  act  of  the  young  princes  in 
assuming  the  garb  and  state  of  Caesars.  He  would 
rather  leave  to  Rome  her  own  titles  and  empire,  and 
stand  here  upon  a  new  and  independent  footing.  It 
was  a  mad  and  useless  affront,  deeply  wounding  to  the 
pride  of  Aurelian,  and  the  more  rankling  as  it -was  of 
the  nature  of  a  personal  as  well  as  national  affront. 
He  withheld  not  blame  too  from  that  towering  ambition 
which,  as  he  said,  coveted  the  world  because  the  gods 
had  indeed  imparted  a  genius  capable  to  rule  the  worM. 
He  had  exerted  all  his  powers  to  moderate  and  restrain 
it,  by  infusing  a  love  of  other  than  warlike  pursuits 
*  But,'  said  he,  *  the  gods  weave  the  texture  of  our  souls, 
not  ourselves ;  and  the  web  is  too  intensely  wove  and 
drenched  in  too  deep  a  dye  for  us  to  undo  or  greatly 
change.  The  eagle  cannot  be  tamed  down  to  the  soft 
ness  of  a  dove,  and  no  art  of  the  husbandman  can  send 
into  the  gnarled  and  knotted  oak  the  juices  that  shall 
smooth  and  melt  its  stiffness  into  the  yielding  pliancy 
of  the  willow.  I  wage  no  war  with  the  work  of  the 
gods.  Besides,  the  demands  of  Rome  have  now  grown 
to  such  a  size  that  they  swallow  up  our  very  existence 
as  a  free  and  sovereign  state.  They  leave  us  but  this 
single  city  and  province  out  of  an  empire  that  now 
stretches  from  the  Nile  to  the  Bosphorus — an  empire 
obtained  by  what  cost  of  blood  and  treasure  I  need  not 
say,  any  more  than  by  what  consummate  skill  in  that 
art  which  boasts  the  loftiest  minds  of  all  ages.'  He 
went  on  to  say,  that  Palmyra  owed  a  duty  not  only  to 


20  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  „ 

herself  in  this  matter,  but  to  the  whole  East,  and  even 
to  the  world.  For  what  part  of  the  civilized  world 
had  not  been  trampled  into  dust  by  the  despotism  of 
almighty  Rome  ?  It  was  needful  to  the  well-being  of 
nations  that  some  power  should  boldly  stand  forth  and 
check  an  insolence  that  suffered  no  city  nor  kingdom 
to  rest  in  peace.  No  single  people  ought  to  obtain 
universal  empire.  A  powerful  nation  was  the  more 
observant  of  the  eternal  principles  of  honor  and  justice 
for  being  watched  by  another,  its  equal.  Individual 
character  needs  such  supervision,  and  national  as 
much.  Palmyra  was  now  an  imposing  object  in  the 
eye  of  the  whole  world.  It  was  the  second  power.  All 
he  wished  was,  that  for  the  sake  of  the  world's  peace, 
it  should  retain  this  position.  He  deprecated  conquest. 
However  another  might  aspire  to  victory  over  Aurelian, 
to  new  additions  from  the  Roman  territory,  he  had  no 
such  aspirations.  On  the  other  hand,  he  should  de 
plore  any  success  beyond  the  maintenance  of  a  just 
and  honorable  independence.  This  was  our  right,  he 
said,  by  inheritance,  and  as  much  also  by  conquest, 
arid  for  this  he  was  ready,  with  the  noble  Gracchus,  to 
offer  to  his  sovereign  his  properties,  his  powers,  and 
his  life.  '  If  my  poor  life,'  he  closed  with  saying, '  could 
prolong  by  a  single  year  the  reign  of  one  who,  with 
virtues  so  eminent  and  a  genius  so  vast,  fills  the  throne 
of  this  fair  kingdom,  I  would  lay  it  at  her  feet  with 
joy,  and  think  it  a  service  well  done  for  our  own  and 
the  world's  happiness.' 

No  sooner  had  Longinus  ended,  than  Otho,  a  man 
)f  whom  I  have  more  than  once  spoken  to  you,  begged 
to  say  a  few  words. 


ZEN  OBI  A.  21 

*  My  opinions  are  well  known,'  he  began  with  say 
ing,  '  and  it  may  be  needless  that  I  should  again,  and 
especially  here,  declare  them,  seeing  that  they  will  jar 
so  rudely  with  those  entertained  by  you,  my  friends 
around  me.  But  sure  I  am,  that  no  one  has  advocated 
the  cause  and  the  sentiments  which  Zenobia  cherishes 
so  fondly,  with  a  truer,  deeper  affection  for  her,  with  a 
sincerer  love  of  her  glory,  than  I  rise  to  oppose  them 
with — '  '  We  know  it,  we  know  it,  Otho,'  interrupted 
the  Queen.  '  Thanks,  noble  Queen,  for  the  fresh  assu 
rance  of  it.  It  is  because  I  love,  that  I  resist  you.  It 
is  because  I  glory  in  your  reign,  in  your  renown,  in 
your  virtues,  that  I  oppose  an  enterprise  that  I  see 
with  a  prophet's  vision  will  tarnish  them  all.  Were  I 
your  enemy,  I  could  not  do  better  than  to  repeat  the 
arguments  that  have  just  fallen  from  the  lips  of  the 
head  of  our  councils,  set  off  with  every  trick  of  eloquence 
that  would  send  them  with  a  yet  more  resistless  power 
into  the  minds  not  only  of  those  who  are  assembled 
here,  but  of  those,  your  subjects,  wherever  over  these 
large  dominions  they  are  scattered.  To  press  this  war 
is  to  undermine  the  foundations  of  the  fairest  kingdom 
the  sun  shines  upon,  and  unseat  the  most  beloved  ruler 
that  ever  swayed  a  sceptre  over  the  hearts  of  a  devoted 
people.  It  can  have  no  other  issue.  And  this  is  not, 
O  noble  Queen,  to  throw  discredit  upon  former  achieve 
ments,  or  to  express  a  doubt  of  powers  which  have 
received  the  homage  of  the  world.  It  is  only  with 
open  eyes  to  acknowledge  what  all  but  the  blind  must 
see  and  confess,  the  overwhelming  superiority  in  power 
of  every  kind  of  the  other  party.  With  a  feeble  man 
upon  the  Roman  throne,  and  I  grant  that  upon  the 


22  ZENOBIA. 

outskirts  of  her  empire  a  brave  and  determined  oppo 
sition  might  obtain  great  advantages,  and  conquer  or 
re-conquer  provinces  and  cities,  and  bring  disgrace 
upon  Roman  generals.  But  this  must  be  a  transitory 
glory — the  mere  shooting  of  an  evening  star — ending 
in  deeper  gloom.  For  what  is  Rome  ?  Is  it  the  com 
mander  of  a  legion,  or  the  resident  governor  of  a 
dependent  kingdom,  or  even  Caesar  himself?  And 
have  you  dealt  with  Rome  when  you  have  dealt  with 
Balista,  or  Heraclianus,  or  Probus  ?  Alas  !  no.  Rome 
still  stands  omnipotent  and  secure,  ^he  lion  has  been 
but  chafed,  and  is  still  a  lion,  with  more  than  his  for 
mer  fury ;  one  hair  has  been  drawn ;  his  teeth,  his 
limbs,  his  massy  weight,  his  untouched  energies,  remain. 
Rome  has  been  asleep  for  thirteen  long  years.  Any 
empire  but  Rome — which  is  immortal — would  have 
slept  the  sleep  of  death  under  the  dastardly,  besotted 
Gallienus.  But  Rome  has  but  slumbered,  and  has 
now  awaked  with  renovated  powers,  under  the  auspices 
of  a  man  whose  name  alone  has  carried  terror  and 
dismay  to  the  farthest  tribes  of  the  German  forests. 
Against  Aurelian,  with  all  the  world  at  his  back  !  and 
what  can  any  resistance  of  ours  avail  ?  We  may  gain 
a  single  victory — to  that,  genius  and  courage  are  equal, 
and  we  possess  them  in  more  than  even  Roman  mea 
sure — but  that  very  victory  may  be  our  undoing,  or  it 
will  but  embitter  the  temper  of  the  enemy,  call  forth  a 
new  display  of  unexhausted  and  inexhaustible  resources, 
while  our  very  good  success  itself  will  have  nearly 
annihilated  our  armies  ;  and  what  can  happen  then 
but  ruin,  absolute  and  complete  ?  Roman  magnanimity 
may  spare  our  city  and  our  name.  But  it  is  more 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A .  23 

likely  that  Roman  vengeance  may  blot  them  both  out 
from  the  map  of  the  world,  and  leave  us  nought  but 
the  fame  of  our  Queen,  and  the  crumbling  ruins  of 
this  once  flourishing  city,  by  which  to  be  remembered 
by  posterity. 

'  These  are  not  the  counsels  of  fear — of  a  tame  and 
cowardly  spirit.  I  may  rebut  that  imputation  without 
vanity,  by  referring  to  the  siege  of  Ctesiphon  and  the 
reduction  of  Egypt.  The  generous  Zabdas  will  do  me 
justice — nay,  you  all  will — why  am  I  apprehensive  ? 
Bear  with  me  a  moment  more ' — '  Say  on,  say  on,  noble 
Otho,'  said  the  Queen,  and  many  other  voices  at  the 
same  time. — 'The  great  Longinus  has  said,'  continued 
he, '  that  it  is  needful  that  there  be  one  empire  at  least 
in  the  world  to  stand  between  Rome  and  universal 
dominion.  I  believe  it.  And  that  Palmyra  may  be, 
or  continue  to  be,  that  kingdom,  I  counsel  peace — I 
counsel  delay — temporary  concession — negotiation — 
any  thing  but  war.  A  Roman  emperor  lives  not  for 
ever;  and  let  us  once  ward  off  the  jealousy  of  Aure- 
lian,  by  yielding  to  some  of  his  demands,  and  resigning 
pretensions  which  are  nothing  in  reality,  but  exist  as 
names  and  shadows  only,  and  long  years  of  peace  and 
prosperity  may  again  arise,  when  our  now  infant  king 
dom  may  shoot  up  into  the  strong  bone  and  muscle  of 
a  more  vigorous  manhood,  and  with  reason  assert 
rights,  which  now  it  seems  but  madness,  essential 
madness,  to  do.  Listen,  great  Queen  !  to  the  counsels 
of  a  time-worn  soldier,  whose  whole  soul  is  bound  up 
in  most  true-hearted  devotion  to  your  greatness  and 
glory.  I  quarrel  not  with  your  ambition,  or  your  love 
of  warlike  fame.  I  would  only  direct  them  to  fields 


24  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

where  they  may  pluck  fresh  laurels,  and  divert  them 
from  those  where  waits — pardon  me,  my  royal  mis 
tress  ! — inevitable  shame.' 

Soon  as  Otho  had  given  a  single  sign  of  pause,  Zab- 
das,  like  a  war-horse,  sprang  upon  his  feet.  '  Were  not 
the  words,'  said  he,  *  which  we  have  just  heard,  the 
words  of  Otho,  I  would  cry  out  treason !  treason ! — 
But  Otho — is  Otho.  What  nation  would  ever,  O 
Queen,  outgrow  its  infancy,  were  a  policy  like  this, 
now  descanted  upon,  to  guide  its  counsels?  The 
general  who  risks  nothing  can  win  nothing.  And  the 
nation  that  should  wait  till  absolutely  sure  of  victory 
before  unsheathing  the  sword  would  never  draw  it,  or 
only  in  some  poor  skirmish,  where  victory  would  be  as 
disgraceful  as  defeat.  Besides,  although  such  a  nation 
were  to  rise  by  such  victories,  if  victories  those  may  be 
called  won  by  a  thousand  over  an  hundred,  who  would 
not  blush  to  own  himself  a  citizen  of  it  ?  Greatness 
lies  not  in  pounds  weight  of  flesh,  but  in  skill,  courage, 
warlike  genius,  energy,  and  an  indomitable  will.  A 
great  heart  will  scatter  a  multitude.  The  love  of  free 
dom,  in  a  few  brave  spirits,  overthrows  kingdoms.  It 
was  not,  if  I  rightly  remember,  numbers  by  which  the 
Persian  hosts  were  beaten  upon  the  plains  of  Greece. 
It  was  there  something  like  three  hundred  to  a  million 
—the  million  weighed  more  than  the  three  hundred, 
yet  the  three  hundred  were  the  heavier.  The  arm  of 
one  Spartan  fell  like  a  tempest  upon  the  degenerate 
Persians,  crushing  its  thousands  at  a  single  sweep.  It 
was  a  great  heart  and  a  trusting  spirit  that  made  it 
weigh  so  against  mere  human  flesh.  Are  we  to  wait 
till  Palmyra  be  as  multitudinous  as  Rome,  ere  we  risk 


ZENOBIA.  25 

a  battle  ?  Perhaps  Rome  will  grow  as  fast  as  Palmyra 
— and  how  long  must  we  then  wait?  I  care  not, 
though  Aurelian  bring  half  Europe  at  his  back,  there 
sits  a  throned  spirit — whether  of  earth  or  not,  I  cannot 
tell,  but  as  I  think  more  than  half  divine — who  will 
drive  him  back  shattered  and  bleeding,  the  jest  and 
ridicule  of  the  observing  world.  She  who,  by  the  force 
of  pure  intellect,  has  out  of  this  speck  in  the  desert 
made  a  large  empire,  who  has  humbled  Persia,  and 
entered  her  capital  in  triumph,  has  defeated  three  Ro 
man  armies,  and  wrested  more  provinces  than  time  will 
allow  me  to  number,  from  the  firm  grasp  of  the  self- 
styled  mistress  of  the  world,  this  more  than  Semiramis 
is  to  be  daunted  forsooth,  because  a  Roman  soldier  of 
fortune  sends  his  hirelings  here  and  asks  of  her  the 
surrender  of  three  fourths  of  her  kingdom— she  is  to 
kneel  and  cry  him  mercy — and  humbly  lay  at  his 
royal  feet  the  laurels  won  by  so  much  precious  blood 
and  treasure.  May  the  sands  of  the  desert  bury  Pal-\ 
myra  and  her  Queen,  sooner  than  one  humiliating  ] 
word  shall  pass  those  lips,  or  one  act  of  concession  blast 
a  fame  to  this  hour  spotless  as  the  snows  of  Ararat, 
and  bright  as  the  Persian  God.  Shame  upon  the  man 
who,  after  the  lessons  of  the  past,  wants  faith  in  his 
sovereign.  Great  Queen,  believe  me,  the  nation  is 
with  you.  Palmyra,  as  one  man,  will  pour  out  treasure 
to  the  last  and  least  dust  of  gold,  and  blood  to  the  last 
drop,  that  you  may  still  sit  secure  upon  that  throne, 
and  stretch  your  sceptre  over  a  yet  wider  and  undis- 
honored  empire.' 

*  Let   not   the   Queen,'  resumed  Otho,  as   Zabdas 
ceased,  '  let  not  the  Queen  doubt  my  faith' — 
VOL.  n.  3 


26  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

1 1  douot  it  not,  good  Otho,'  she  replied ;  « heed  not 
the  sharp  words  of  the  impetuous  Zabdas ;  in  his  zeal 
for  the  art  he  only  loves  and  for  his  Queen,  he  has 
thrust  his  lance  hither  and  thither  at  all  adventures, 
hut  as  in  the  sports  of  the  field  he  means  no  injury.' 

'  Zabdas  intends  no  wrong,  I  am  well  assured,'  re 
joined  Otho.  '  I  would  only  add  a  word,  to  show  upon 
what  I  ground  my  doubt  of  good  success,  should  Aure- 
lian  muster  all  his  strength.  It  cannot  be  thought  that 
I  have  lost  my  faith  in  the  military  genius  and  prowess 
of  either  Zenobia  or  Zabdas,  with  both  of  whom,  side 
by  side,  I  have  fought  so  many  times,  and  by  their 
conduct  mounted  up  to  victory.  Neither  do  I  doubt 
the  courage  of  our  native  Palmyrenes,  nor  their  devo 
tion  to  the  interests  of  their  country.  They  will  war 
to  the  death.  But  should  a  second  army  be  to  be  raised, 
should  the  chosen  troops  of  the  city  and  its  neighbor 
ing  territories  be  once  cut  off,  upon  whom  are  we  then 
to  rely  ?  Where  are  the  auxiliaries  whom  we  can 
trust  ?  What  reliance  can  be  placed  upon  Arabs,  the 
Armenians,  the  Saracens,  the  Cappadocians,  the 
Syrians  ?  Is  our  empire  so  old,  and  so  well  moulded 
into  one  mass,  so  single  in  interest  and  affection,  that 
these  scattered  tribes — formerly  hostile  to  each  other 
and  to  us,  many,  most  of  them  at  different  times  sub 
ject  to  Rome — may  be  depended  upon  as  our  own 
people  ?  Have  we  legions  already  drawn  from  their 
numbers,  disciplined,  and  accustomed  to  our  modes  of 
warfare  ?  Truly,  this  war  with  Rome  seems  to  be 
approached  much  as  if  it  were  but  some  passing  show 
of  arms,  some  holiday  pastime.  But  the  gods  grant 
that  none  of  my  forebodings  turn  true  ! ' 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  27 

The  words  of  the  soher-minded  and  honest  Otho 
found  no  echo  in  the  bosoms  of  those  who  heard  him, 
and  he  ceased,  when  I  believe  he  would  willingly  have 
gone  on  to  a  closer  and  sharper  opposition.  Others 
followed  him,  each  one  present  eagerly  pressing  for 
ward  to  utter,  were  it  but  one  word,  to  show  his  loyalty, 
and  his  zeal  in  the  service  of  his  Queen. 

When  all,  or  nearly  all,  had  in  this  manner  mani 
fested  their  attachment  and  declared  their  opinions,  the 
Queen  turned  to  me,  saying,  that  as  I  had  there  heard 
so  much  of  what  I  could  not  approve,  and  perhaps  had 
power  to  disprove,  it  was  right  that  if  I  wished  I  should 
also  express  my  opinions ;  nay,  it  would  be  esteemed 
as  a  favor  by  herself,  and  she  was  sure  also  by  all  her 
friends,  if  I  would  freely  impart  any  knowledge  I  might 
possess,  by  which  any  error  might  be  corrected,  or  false 
impressions  dissipated. 

Being  thus  invited,  I  not  unwillingly  entered  into 
the  questions  that  had  been  agitated,  and  with  earnest 
ness  and  sincerity,  and  with  all  the  power  I  could  bring 
to  bear,  labored  to  expose  the  imminent  hazard  to  the 
very  existence  of  the  kingdom,  which  was  run  by  this 
rash  encounter  with  the  countless  hosts  of  Rome.  I 
revealed  a  true  picture  of  the  resources  of  our  country, 
and  sketched,  as  I  could  so  well  do  in  their  proper 
colors,  the  character  of  the  fierce  Aurelian ;  and,  in  a 
word,  did  all  that  a  Roman  could  do  for  Rome,  and  a 
Palmyrene  for  Palmyra.  I  remembered  what  Otho 
had  told  me  of  the  courtesy  and  willingness  with  which 
any  company  of  genuine  Palmyrenes  would  listen  to 
me,  and  shrank  not  from  any  statement  however  harsh 
and  grating  to  their  national  vanity,  but  which  seemed 


28  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

to  me  to  convey  wholesome  truth.  It  appeared  to  me 
indeed  too  late  to  work  any  change  in  minds  so  pledged 
already  to  an  adopted  opinion,  but  I  resolved  to  leave 
nothing  untried  to  turn  them  from  a  bent  that  must 
end  in  irretrievable  ruin.  I  was  encouraged  too,  and 
urged  on  to  more  than  a  common  effort,  by  the  implor 
ing  countenance  of  the  Princess  Julia,  who,  in  that 
expressive  manner,  begged  me  to  use  all  frankness  and 
boldness  in  my  communications.  Otho  had,  it  is  true, 
with  great  power  and  unshrinking  fidelity,  advocated 
the  cause  of  peace,  and  laid  bare  the  true  motives  to 
the  war,  but  still  it  appeared  to  me  that  much  might  be 
said  by  a  Roman  and  a  stranger,  that  would  carry  with 
it  more  weight  than  as  coming  from  a  citizen,  however 
loved  and  respected.  To  you,  my  friend,  I  need  enter 
into  no  detail ;  you  will  easily  imagine  what  it  was, 
as  a  Roman,  I  should  urge  upon  such  an  occasion,  and 
in  such  a  presence.  I  shall  always  remember  with 
satisfaction,  I  am  sure,  whatever  the  issue  of  this  dif 
ference  may  be,  my  efforts  to  preserve  peace  between 
two  nations,  whose  best  interests  must  be  advanced  not 
by  enmity  and  war,  but  by  the  closest  alliance  of  friendly 
intercourse. 

I  was  heard  with  attention  and  respect,  and  after 
wards  with  sincerity  thanked,  not  only  by  the  oppesers 
of  the  present  measures,  but  by  their  advocates  also; 
they  were  glad  to  know  the  worst  that  could  be  said 
against  the  cause  they  had  espoused.  A  brief  silence 
ensued  as  I  ended,  and  the  eyes  of  all  were  instinctively 
turned  upon  Zenobia,  the  ruling  spirit — the  maker  of 
the  kingdom — its  soul — its  head — and  bright,  peer 
less  crown. 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  29 

*  It  was  my  wish,'  said  Zenobia,  answering  the  gen 
eral  expectation,  '  before  the  final  decision  of  the  senate 
and  the  council,  to  receive  from  my  friends,  in  social 
confidence,  a  full  expression  of  their  feelings,  their 
opinions,  their  hopes,  and  their  fears,  concerning  the 
present  posture  of  our  affairs.  My  wish  has  been 
gratified,  and  I  truly  thank  you  all,  and  not  least  those 
my  friends — as  a  philosopher,  should  I  not  term  them 
my  best  friends  ? — who,  with  a  generous  trust  in  me 
and  in  you  who  are  on  my  part,  have  not  shrunk  from 
the  duty,  always  a  hard  one,  of  exposing  the  errors  and 
the  faults  of  those  they  love.  After  such  exposure — 
and  which  at  more  length  and  with  more  specification 
will,  I  trust,  be  repeated  in  the  hearing  of  the  senate 
and  the  council — it  cannot  be  said  that  I  blindly  rushed 
upon  danger  and  ruin,  if  these  await  us,  or  weakly 
blundered  upon  a  wider  renown,  if  that,  as  I  doubt  not, 
is  to  be  the  event  of  the  impending  contest.  I  would 
neither  gain  nor  lose,  but  as  the  effect  of  a  wise  cal 
culation  and  a  careful  choice  of  means.  Withhold  not 
now  your  confidence,  which  before  you  have  never 
refused  me.  Believe  that  now,  as  ever  before,  I  discern 
with  a  clear  eye  the  path  which  is  to  conduct  us  to  a 
yet  higher  pitch  of  glory.  I  have  long  anticipated  the 
emergency  that  has  arisen.  I  was  not  so  ignorant  of 
the  history  and  character  of  the  Roman  people,  as  to 
suppose  that  they  would  suffer  an  empire  like  this, 
founded  and  governed  by  a  woman,  to  divide  long  with 
them  the  homage  of  the  world.  With  the  death  of  the 
ignoble  son  of  Valerian,  I  believed  would  close  our 
undisputed  reign  over  most  of  these  eastern  provinces. 
Had  Claudius  lived,  good  as  he  was,  he  was  too  Roman 
TOL.  n.  3* 


30  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  , 

in  his  mould  not  to  have  done  what  Aurelian  now 
attempts.  I  prepared  then  for  the  crisis  which  has 
come  not  till  now.  I  am  ready  now.  My  armies  are 
in  complete  discipline ;  the  city  itself  so  fortified  with 
every  art  and  muniment  of  war  as  safely  to  defy  any 
power  that  any  nation  may  array  before  its  walls. 
But  were  this  not  so  ;  did  the  embassy  of  Aurelian 
take  us  by  surprise  and  unprepared ;  should  a  people 
that  respects  itself,  and  would  win  or  keep  the  good 
opinion  of  mankind,  tamely  submit  to  requisitions  like 
these  ?  Are  we  to  dismember  our  country  at  the 
behest  of  a  stranger,  of  a  foreigner,  and  a  Roman  ? 
Do  you  feel  that  without  a  struggle  first  for  freedom 
and  independence,  you  could  sink  down  into  a  mean 
tributary  of  all-ingulfing  Rome,  and  lose  the  name  of 
Palmyrene  ?  I  see  by  the  most  expressive  of  all  lan 
guage,  that  you  would  rather  die.  Happy  are  you, 
my  friends,  that  this  is  not  your  case  ;  you  are  ready 
for  the  enemy ;  you  shall  not  lose  your  name  or  your 
renown ;  and  you  shall  not  die.  I  and  my  brave 
soldiers  will  at  a  distance  breast  the  coming  storm; 
your  ears  shall  not  so  much  as  hear  its  thunder;  and 
at  the  worst,  by  the  sacrifice  of  our  lives,  your  and 
your  country's  life  shall  be  preserved. 

'  I  am  advised  to  avert  this  evil  by  negotiation,  by 
delay.  Does  any  one  believe  that  delay  on  our  part 
will  change  the  time-engendered  character  of  Rome  ? 
If  I  cease  to  oppose,  will  Rome  cease  to  be  ambitious  ? 
Will  fair  words  turn  aside  the  fierce  spirit  of  Aurelian 
from  his  settled  purpose  ?  Will  he — so  truly  painted 
by  the  Roman  Piso — who  looks  to  build  an  undying 
name,  by  bringing  back  the  empire  to  the  bounds  that 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  31 

compassed  it  under  the  great  Antonines,  let  slip  the 
glory  for  a  few  cities  now  in  hand,  and  others  prom 
ised  ?  or  for  the  purple  robe  humbly  pulled  from  our 
young-  Caesars'  shoulders  ?  Believe  it  not.  The  storm 
that  threatens  might  be  so  warded  off  perhaps  for  a  day 
— a  month — a  year — a  reign — but  after  that  it  would 
come,  and,  in  all  reasonable  calculation,  with  tenfold 
fury.  I  would  rather  meet  the  danger  at  its  first  me 
nace,  and  thereby  keep  our  good  name, — which 
otherwise  should  we  not  sully  or  lose  ? — and  find  it 
less  too  than  a  few  years  more  would  make  it. 

'  I  am  charged  with  pride  and  ambition.  The  charge 
is  true,  and  I  glory  in  its  truth.  Who  ever  achieved 
any  thing  great  in  letters,  arts,  or  arms,  who  was  riot 
ambitious  ?  Caesar  was  not  more  ambitious  than  Cicero. 
It  was  but  in  another  way.  All  greatness  is  born  of 
ambition.  Let  the  ambition  be  a  noble  one,  and  who 
shall  blame  it  ?  I  confess  I  did  once  aspire  to  be 
Queen  not  only  of  Palmyra,  but  of  the  East.  That 
I  am.  I  now  aspire  to  remain  so.  Is  it  not  an  hon 
orable  ambition  ?  Does  it  not  become  a  descendant  of 
the  Ptolemys  and  of  Cleopatra  ?  I  am  applauded  by 
you  all  for  what  I  have  already  done.  You  would  not 
it  should  have  been  less.  But  why  pause  here  ?  Is 
so  much  ambition  praiseworthy,  and  more  criminal  ? 
Is  it  fixed  in  nature  that  the  limits  of  this  empire  should 
be  Egypt  on  the  one  hand,  the  Hellespont  and  the 
Euxine  on  the  other  ?  Were  not  Suez  and  Armenia 
more  natural  limits?  Or  hath  empire  no  natural 
limit,  but  is  broad  as  the  genius  that  can  devise,  and 
the  power  that  can  win  ?  Rome  has  the  West.  Let 
Palmyra  possess  the  East.  Not  that  nature  prescribes 


32  ZE  NOBI  A. 

this  and  no  more.  The  gods  prospering,  and  I  swear 
not  that  the  Mediterranean  shall  hem  me  in  upon  the 
West,  or  Persia  on  the  East.  Longinus  is  right — I 
would  that  the  world  were  mine.  I  feel  within  the 
will  and  the  power  to  bless  it,  were  it  so. 

*  Are  not  my  people  happy  ?  I  look  upon  the  past 
and  the  present,  upon  my  nearer  and  remoter  subjects, 
and  ask  nor  fear  the  answer — whom  have  I  wronged? 
what  province  have  I  oppressed  ?  what  city  pillaged  ? 
what  region  drained  with  taxes  ?  whose  life  have  1 
unjustly  taken,  or  estates  coveted  or  robbed  ?  whose 
honor  have  I  wantonly  assailed  ?  whose  rights,  though 
of  the  weakest  and  poorest,  have  I  trenched  upon  ?  I 
dwell  where  I  would  ever  dwell,  in  the  hearts  of  my 
people.  It  is  writ  in  your  faces,  that  I  reign  not  more 
over  you  than  within  you.  The  foundation  of  my 
throne  is  not  more  power  than  love.  Suppose  now, 
my  ambition  add  another  province  to  our  realm  ?  Is 
it  an  evil  ?  The  kingdoms  already  bound  to  us  by  the 
joint  acts  of  ourself  and  the  late  royal  Odenatus,  we 
found  discordant  and  at  war.  They  are  now  united 
and  at  peace.  One  harmonious  whole  has  grown  out 
of  hostile  and  sundered  parts.  At  my  hands  they 
receive  a  common  justice  and  equal  benefits.  The 
channels  of  their  commerce  have  I  opened,  and  dug 
them  deep  and  sure.  Prosperity  and  plenty  are  in  all 
their  borders.  The  streets  of  our  capital  bear  testimony 
to  the  distant  and  various  industry  which  here  seeks 
its  market.  This  is  no  vain  boasting — receive  it  not 
so,  good  friends :  it  is  but  truth.  He,  who  traduces 
himself,  sins  with  him  who  traduces  another.  He  who 
is  unjust  to  himself,  or  less  than  just,  breaks  a  law  as 


ZENOBIA.  33 

well  as  he  who  hurts  his  neighbor.  I  tell  you  what  I 
am  and  what  I  have  done,  that  your  trust  for  the  future 
may  not  rest  upon  ignorant  grounds.  If  I  am  more 
than  just  to  myself,  rebuke  me.  If  I  have  overstepped 
the  modesty  that  became  me,  I  am  open  to  your  cen 
sure,  and  will  bear  it.  But  I  have  spoken,  that  you 
may  know  your  Queen — not  only  by  her  acts,  but  by 
her  admitted  principles.  I  tell  you  then  that  I  am 
ambitious — that  I  crave  dominion,  and  while  I  live  will 
reign.  Sprung  from  a  line  of  kings,  a  throne  is  my 
natural  seat.  I  love  it.  But  I  strive  too — you  can 
bear  me  witness  that  I  do — that  it  shall  be,  while  I  sit 
upon  it,  an  honored,  unpolluted  seat.  If  I  can,  I  will 
hang  a  yet  brighter  glory  round  it. 

'And  as  to  pride — what  if  my  woman's  nature,  that 
nature  the  gods  implanted  and  I  have  received  from 
royal  ancestors,  loves  the  pomp  and  show  of  power  ? 
What  if  the  pride  which  dwells  in  all  high  natures 
gratifies  itself  in  me  by  planting  its  feet  upon  an  Indian 
princess,  as  its  only  fitting  footstool,  who' — Suddenly 
at  this  point  of  her  discourse  the  Queen  broke  off,  and 
advancing  from  where  she  stood — she  had  risen  from 
her  seat  in  the  ardor  of  her  address — greeted  with 
native  courtesy  and  grace  the  Roman  ambassadors, 
who,  in  company  with  others  of  their  train,  we  now 
saw  to  enter  the  apartments. 

The  company,  upon  this,  again  resolved  itself  into 
many  separate  groups,  and  returned  to  such  private 
topics  as  each  one  liked,  Zenobia  devoting  herself  to 
Varro  and  Petronius. 

By  and  by,  at  the  striking  up  of  music,  we  moved 
to  another  apartment,  the  banqueting  hall — the  same 


34  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

Egyptian  room  in  which  I  had  before  partaken  the 
hospitalities  of  the  Eastern  Queen,  where  tables,  set 
out  with  the  most  lavish  magnificence,  and  bending 
beneath  the  most  tempting  burdens,  awaited  our  ap 
proach.  A  flood  of  light  was  poured  from  the  ceiling, 
and  reflected  back  again  from  the  jewelled  wine  cups 
and  embossed  gold  of  Demetrius. 

But  I  cannot  pretend  to  describe  this  sumptuous 
feast.  I  will  only  say,  that  the  Queen,  seated  between 
the  Roman  ambassadors,  gave  the  evening  to  them 
And  what  with  the  frequent  cups  in  which  she  pledged 
them,  and  the  fascinating  charms  of  her  beauty  and  her 
conversation,  I  fear  there  was  but  little  of  the  Roman 
in  them  when  they  rose  to  depart.  In  this  more  peace 
ful  way  has  Zenobia  won  provinces  and  cities,  as  well 
as  at  the  head  of  her  armies.  Farewell. 


ZENOBIA.  35 


LETTER    XI. 

FROM  my  late  letters  to  Portia,  and  which  without 
doubt  you  have  before  this  read,  you  have  learned  with 
certainty,  what  I  am  sure  the  eye  of  Lucilia  must  before 
have  clearly  discerned,  my  love  of  the  Princess  Julia. 
I  have  there  related  all  that  it  can  import  my  friends  to 
know.  The  greatest  event  of  my  life — the  issues  of 
which,  whether  they  are  to  crown  me  with  a  felicity 
the  gods  might  envy,  or  plunge  me  in  afflictions  divine 
compassions  could  not  assuage — I  have  there  described 
with  that  careful  concern  for  your  fullest  information, 
touching  all  that  befalls  me,  by  which  you  will  bear 
me  testimony  I  have  been  actuated  during  my  residence 
in  this  Eastern  capital. 

You  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that  my  passion  is 
opposed  by  the  Queen.  It  was  in  the  same  apartment 
of  the  palace  where  I  first  saw  this  wonderful  woman, 
that  at  a  late  interview  with  her,  at  her  command, 
I  was  enjoined  to  think  no  more  of  an  alliance  with 
her  house. 

I  was,  as  you  may  easily  imagine,  not  a  little 
disturbed  in  anticipation  of  an  interview  with  such  a 
person,  on  such  an  occasion.  Fausta  assured  me  that 
I  might  rely  upon  the  Queen's  generosity,  and  could  look 
to  receive  only  the  most  courteous  reception,  whatever 
her  decision  might  be  on  my  suit.  '  I  fear  greatly  for 
your  success,'  said  she,  *  but  pray  the  gods  both  for 
your  and  the  Princess'  sake  my  fears  may  not  come 
true.  Julia  lives  in  her  affections — she  cannot  like 


36  ZENOBIA. 

me  become  part  of  the  world  abroad,  and  doubly  live 
in  its  various  action.  She  loves  Zenobia  indeed  with 
the  truest  affection,  but  she  has  given  her  heart  to  you, 
Lucius,  and  disappointment  here  would  feed  upon  her 
very  life.  She  ought  not  to  be  denied.  She  cannot 
bear  it.  Yet  Zenobia,  devoured  by  ambition,  and 
holding  so  little  sympathy  with  human  hearts  in  their 
mutual  loves — all  the  world  to  them — may  deny  her, 
nor  ever  half  conceive  the  misery  she  will  inflict  upon 
a  being  she  loves  and  even  reveres.  Press  your  cause, 
Lucius,  with  a  manly  boldness.  The  gods  succeed 
you.' 

The  Queen  received  me  graciously,  but  with  a  fixed 
and  almost  severe  countenance.  She  expressed  her 
self  obliged  to  me  for  the  early  knowledge  of  what 
otherwise  she  had  not  so  much  as  suspected.  '  Living 
myself,'  said  she  '  far  above  any  dependence  upon  love 
for  my  happiness,  I  am  not  prone  to  see  the  affection  in 
others.  The  love  which  fastens  upon  objects  because 
they  are  worthy,  I  can  understand  and  honor.  But 
that  mad  and  blind  passion,  which  loves  only  because 
it  will  love,  which  can  render  no  reason  for  its  exist 
ence  but  a  hot  and  capricious  fancy,  I  have  had  no 
experience  of  in  my  own  heart,  and  where  I  see  it  I 
have  no  feeling  for  it  but  one  of  disapprobation  or 
contempt.  If  it  be  but  the  beauty  of  Julia  which  has 
bewitched  thy  fancy,  Roman,  amuse  thyself  with  a 
brief  tour  of  pleasure,  either  to  Antioch  or  Alexandria, 
and  other  objects  will  greet  thee,  and  soon  drive  her 
from  thy  thoughts.' 

I  assured  her  that  my  regard  was  not  of  this  kind : 
that  indeed  her  transcendent  beauty  had  first  won  me. 


ZENOBIA. 

but  that  other  qualities  retained  me  ;  that  the  bond 
which  held  me  was  as  much  friendship  as  love,  and.  I 
might  say  as  much  reverence  as  friendship. 

*  The  greater  the  pity,  Roman,'  rejoined  the  Queen 
in  a  voice  somewhat  stern,  but  yet  melancholy,  *  the 
greater  the  pity.  In  truth,  I  had  hoped  thine  was  but 
the  love  of  the  painted  image,  and  might  without  pain 
be  transferred  to  another,  painted  but  as  well.  Yet,  had 
I  reflected  upon  the  sentiments  I  have  heard  from  thee, 
I  might  have  judged  thee  nobler.  But,  Piso,  this  must 
not  be.  Were  I  to  look  only  to  myself  and  Julia,  I 
might  well  be  pleased  with  a  tie  that  bound  us  to  one 
whom  I  have  so  weighty  reasons  to  respect  and  honor. 
But  to  do  this  I  have  no  right.  I  am  not  my  own,  but 
the  State's.  Julia  is  no  daughter  of  mine,  but  the 
property  of  Palmyra.  Marriage  is  one  of  the  chief 
bonds  of  nations,  as  of  families.  Were  it  not  a  crime 
in  me,  with  selfish  regard  to  my  own  or  my  daughter's 
pleasure,  to  bestow  her  upon  a  private  citizen  of  what 
ever  worth,  when,  espousing  her  to  some  foreign  prince, 
t  province  or  a  kingdom  may  be  won  or  saved  ? ' 

'  But,'  I  ventured  to  remark,  *  are  the  hearts  of  princes 
ind  princesses  to  be  bartered  away  for  power  or  terri- 
.ory?  are  the  affections  to  be  bought  and  sold?  Is 
he  question  of  happiness  to  be  no  question  in  their 
•ase  ? ' 

'  By  no  means  the  principal  one.    It  is  not  necessarily 

.  sacrifice,  but  if  necessary  the  sacrifice  must  be  made. 

The  world  envies  the  lot  of  those  who  sit  upon  thrones. 

;5ut  the  seat  is  not  without  its  thorns.     It  seems  all 

Bummer  with   them.      But  upon  whom    burst    more 

storms,  or  charged  with  redder  fury  ?     They  seem  to 

VOL.  II.  4 


3S  ZE  N  OBI  A. 

the  unreflecting  mind  to  be  the  only  independent- 
while  they  are  the  slaves  of  all.  The  prosperous 
citizen  may  link  himself  and  his  children  when  and 
with  whom  he  likes,  and  none  may  gainsay  him.  He 
has  but  to  look  to  himself  and  his  merest  whim.  The 
royal  family  must  go  and  ask  his  leave.  My  children 
are  more  his  than  mine.  And  if  it  be  his  pleasure  and 
preference  that  my  daughters  ally  themselves  to  an 
Indian  or  a  Roman  prince,  his  will  is  done,  not  mine — 
his  is  the  gain,  mine  the  loss.  And  were  it  just  that, 
when  by  joining  hands  though  not  hearts  two  nations 
could  be  knit  together  in  amity,  the  royal  house  should 
refuse  the  sacrifice  ?  Roman,  I  live  for  Palmyra.  I 
have  asked  of  the  gods  my  children,  not  for  my  own 
pleasure,  but  for  Palmyra's  sake.  I  should  give  the 
lie  to  my  whole  life,  to  every  sentiment  I  have  harbored 
since  that  day  I  gave  myself  to  the  royal  Odenatus, 
were  I  now  to  bestow  upon  a  private  citizen  her,  through 
whom  we  have  so  long  looked  to  ally  ourselves  by  a 
new  and  stronger  bond  to  some  neighboring  kingdom. 
Julia,  Roman — you  have  seen  her,  you  know  her,  you 
can  appreciate  her  more  than  human  qualities — Julia 
is  the  destined  bride  of  Hormisdas.  By  her,  on  Sa 
por's  death,  do  we  hope  to  bind  together  by  chains 
never  to  be  afterward  sundered,  Persia  and  Palmyra, 
who,  then  leagued  by  interest  and  affection,  may  as 
one  kingdom  stand  up  with  the  more  hope  against  the 
overwhelming  force  of  Rome.  Were  I  justified  to 
forego  this  advantage  for  any  private  reason  ?  Can 
you  doubt,  were  I  not  constrained  to  act  otherwise, 
whether  I  should  prefer  some  nobleman  of  Palmyra, 
or  thee,  that  so  I  might  ever  dwell  within  the  charmed 


2ENOBIA.  39 

influence  of  one,  from  whom  to  part  will  be  like  the 
pang  of  death  ? ' 

'  But  the  princess,' — I  again  urged. 

4  That  is  scarcely  a  question,'  she  rejoined.  '  She 
may  be  a  sacrifice ;  but  it  will  be  upon  her  country's 
altar.  How  many  of  our  brave  soldiers,  how  many  of 
our  great  officers,  with  devoted  patriotism  throw  away 
their  lives  for  their  country.  You  will  not  say  that 
this  is  done  for  the  paltry  recompense,  which  at  best 
scarce  shields  the  body  from  the  icy  winds  of  winter, 
or  the  scorching  rays  of  summer.  And  shall  not  a 
daughter  of  the  royal  house  stand  ready  to  encounter 
the  hardships  of  a  throne,  the  dangers  of  a  Persian 
court,  and  the  terrors  of  a  royal  husband,  especially 
when  by  doing  so,  fierce  and  bloody  wars  may  be  staid, 
and  nations  brought  into  closer  unity  ?  I  know  but 
little  of  Hormisdas ;  report  speaks  well  of  him.  But 
were  it  much  less  that  1  know,  and  were  report  yet 
less  favorable,  it  were  not  enough  to  turn  me  from  my 
purpose.  Palmyra  married  to  Persia,  through  Julia 
married  to  Hormisdas,  is  that  upon  which  I  and  my 
people  dwell.' 

*  Better  a  thousand  times,'  I  then  said,  *  to  be  born 
to  the  lot  of  the  humblest  peasant — a  slave's  is  no 
worse.' 

'  Upon  love's  calendar,'  said  the  Queen,  *  so  it  is. 
But  have  I  not  freely  admitted,  Roman,  the  dependen 
cy,  nay  slavery,  of  a  royal  house  ?  It  would  grieve 
my  mother's  heart,  I  need  scarce  assure  thee,  were 
Julia  unhappy.  But  grief  to  me  might  bring  joy  to 
two  kingdoms.' 

I  then  could  not  but  urge  the  claims  of  my  own 


40  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

family,  and  that  by  a  more  powerful  and  honored 
one  she  could  not  ally  herself  to  Rome ;  and  might 
not  national  interest  be  as  well  promoted  by  such 
a  bond,  as  by  one  with  the  remoter  East  ?  I  was 
the  friend  too  of  Aurelian,  much  in  his  confidence  and 
regard. 

Zenobia  paused,  and  was  for  a  few  moments  buried 
in  thought.  A  faint  smile  for  the  first  time  played 
over  her  features  as  she  said  in  reply,  '  I  wish  for  your 
sake  and  Julia's  it  could  be  so.  But  it  is  too  late. 
Rome  is  resolved  upon  the  ruin  of  Palmyra — she 
cannot  be  turned  aside.  Aurelian  for  worlds  would  not 
lose  the  glory  of  subduing  the  East.  The  greater  need 
of  haste  in  seeking  a  union  with  Persia.  Were  Sapor 
dead  to-day,  to-morrow  an  embassy  should  start  for 
Ecbatana.  But  think  not,  Piso,  I  harbor  ill  will  toward 
you,  or  hold  your  offer  in  contempt.  A  Queen  of  the 
East  might  not  disdain  to  join  herself  to  a  family, 
whose  ancestors  were  like  yours.  That  Piso  who 
was  once  the  rival,  and  in  power — not  indeed  in  virtue 
— the  equal  of  the  great  Germanicus,  and  looked,  not 
without  show  of  reason,  to  the  seat  of  Tiberius ;  and 
he  who  so  many  years  and  with  such  honor  reigned 
over  the  city  its  unequalled  governor ;  and  thou  the 
descendant  and  companion  of  princes — an  alliance 
with  such  might  well  be  an  object  of  ambition  with 
even  crowned  heads.  And  it  may  well  be,  seeing 
the  steps  by  which  many  an  emperor  of  Rome  has 
climbed  upon  his  precarious  seat,  that  the  coming  years 
may  behold  thee  in  the  place  which  Aurelian  fills,  and, 
were  I  to  pleasure  thee  in  thy  request,  Julia  empress 
of  the  world  !  The  vision  dazzles  !  But  it  cannot  be 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  41 

It  would  be  sad  recreancy  to  my  most  sacred  duty  were 
I,  falling  in  love  with  a  dream,  to  forsake  a  great 
reality.' 

*  I  may  not  then- — '  T  began. 

*_No, Pisoy  you  may  not  even  hope.  I  have  reasoned 
with  you  because  I  honor  you.  But  think  not  that  I 
hesitate  or  waver.  Julia  can  never  be  yours.  She  is 
the  daughter  of  the  state,  and  to  a  state  must  be 
espoused.  Seek  not  therefore  any  more  to  deepen  the 
place  which  you  hold  in  her  affections.  Canst  thou  not 
be  a  friend,  and  leave  the  lover  out?  Friendship  is  a 
sentiment  worthy  godlike  natures,  and  is  the  true 
sweetener  of  the  cup  of  life.  Love  is  at  best  but  a 
bitter  sweet ;  and  when  sweetest,  it  is  the  friendship 
mingled  with  it  that  makes  it  so..  Love,  too,  wastes 
away  with  years.  Friendship  is  eternal.  It  rests  upon 
qualities  that  are  a  part  of  the  soul.  The  witchery  of 
the  outward  image  helps  not  to  make  it,  nor  being  lost 
as  it  is  with  age,  can  dissolve  it.  Friendship  agrees 
too  with  ambition,  while  love  is  its  most  dreaded  rival. 
Need  I  point  to  Antony  ?  If,  Piso,  thou  wouldst  live 
the  worthy  heir  of  thy  great  name ;  if  thou  wouldst 
build  for  thyself  a  throne  in  the  esteem  of  mankind, 
admit  friendship,  but  bar  out  love.  And  I  trust  to  hear 
that  thou  art  great  in  Rome,  greater  even  than  thine 
ancestor  Galba's  adopted  son.  Aim  at  even  the  high 
est,  and  the  arrow,  if  it  reach  it  not,  will  hit  the  nearer. 
When  thou  art  Caesar,  send  me  an  embassy.  Then 
perhaps — ' 

She  closed  with  that  radiant  smile  that  subdues  all 
to  her  will,  her  manner  at  the  same  time  giving  me 
VOL.  n.  4=* 


42  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

to  understand  that  the  conversation,  was  ended,  her  own 
sentence  being  left  playfully  unfinished. 

I  urged  not  many  things  which  you  may  well  sup 
pose  it  came  into  my  mind  to  do,  for  I  neither  wished, 
nor  did  I  feel  as  if  I  had  a  right,  at  an  hour  of  so  much 
public  inquietude,  to  say  aught  to  add  to  the  burden 
already  weighing  upon  her.  Besides,  it  occurred  to 
me,  that  when  within  so  short  a  time  great  public 
changes  may  take  place,  and  the  relations  of  parties  be 
so  essentially  altered,  it  was  not  worth  while  to  give 
utterance  to  sentiments,  which  the  lapse  of  a  brief  period 
might  show  to  have  been  unnecessary  and  unwise.  I 
may  also  add  that  the  presence  of  this  great  woman 
is  so  imposing;  she  seems,  in  the  very  nature  and  form 
the  gods  have  given  her,  to  move  so  far  above  the  rest 
of  her  kind,  that  I  found  it  impossible  both  to  say  much 
of  what  I  had  intended  to  say,  and  to  express  what  I 
did  say  with  the  ease  and  propriety  which  are  common 
to  me  on  ordinary  or  other  extraordinary  occasions. 
They  are  few,  I  believe,  who  possess  themselves  fully 
in  her  presence.  Even  Longinus  confesses  a  constraint. 

'  It  is  even  as  I  apprehended,'  said  Fausta,  as  I  com 
municated  to  her  the  result  of  my  interview  with  the 
Queen.  '  I  know  her  heart  to  have  been  set  upon  a 
foreign  alliance  by  marriage  with  Julia,  and  that  she 
has  been  looking  forward  with  impatience  to  the  time 
when  her  daughters  should  be  of  an  age  to  add  in  this 
way  new  strength  to  the  kingdom.  I  rather  hoped 
than  had  faith,  that  she  would  listen  to  your  proposals. 
I  thought  that  perhaps  the  earnestness  of  the  princess, 
with  the  Queen's  strong  affection  for  her,  together 
with  the  weight  of  your  family  and  name,  might  pre- 


ZENOBIA.  43 

vail.  But  then  I  have  asked  myself,  if  it  were  rea 
sonable  to  indulge  such  a  hope.  The  Queen  is  right 
in  stating  as  she  did  her  dependence,  in  some  sort, 
upon  the  people.  It  is  they,  as  well  as  she,  who  are 
looking  forward  to  this  Persian  marriage.  I  know  not 
what  discontents  would  break  out  were  Hormisdas 
postponed  to  Piso — Persia  to  Rome.  My  position, 
Lucius,  I  think  a  sadder  one  than  Zenobia's.  I  love 
Julia  as  dearly  as  Zenobia,  and  you  a  great  deal  more 
than  Zenobia  does,  and  would  fain  see  you  happy ; 
and  yet  I  love  Palmyra  I  dare  not  say  how  much — 
nor  that,  if  by  such  an  act  good  might  come  to  my 
country,  I  could  almost  wish  that  Julia  should  live  in 
Persia.' 

I  have  within  me  a  better  ground  of  hope  than  is 
guessed  either  by  the  Queen  or  Fausta,  but  yet  can 
name  it  not.  I  mention  this  to  you,  and  pass  to  other 
things. 

The  city  has  to-day  been  greatly  moved,  owing  to 
the  expected  audience  of  our  ambassadors  before  the 
council,  and  their  final  answer.  The  streets  are 
thronged  with  multitudes  not  engaged  in  the  active 
affairs  of  traffic,  but  standing  in  larger  or  smaller 
crowds  talking,  and  hearing  or  telling  news,  as  it  ar 
rives  from  the  palace  or  from  abroad. 

The  die  is  cast.  The  ambassadors  are  dismissed. 
The  decision  of  the  council  has  been  confirmed  by  the 
senate,  and  Varro  and  Petronius  have  with  their  train 
departed  from  the  city.  War  therefore  is  begun.  For 
it  was  the  distinct  language  of  the  embassy,  that  no 


44  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

other  terms  need  be  proposed,  nor  would  be  accepted, 
beside  those  offered  by  them.  None  others  have  been 
offered  on  the  part  of  Palmyra.  And  the  ambassadors 
have  been  delayed  rather  to  avoid  the  charge  of  un 
reasonable  precipitancy,  than  in  the  belief  that  the 
public  mind  would  incline  to  or  permit  any  reply  more 
moderate  than  that  which  they  have  borne  back  to  the 
emperor. 

It  is  understood  that  Aurelian,  with  an  army  per 
fectly  equipped,  stands  waiting.,  ready  to  start  for  Asia  on 
the  arrival  of  the  ambassadors  or  their  couriers.  From 
your  last  letters  I  gather  as  much.  How,  again  I  ask — 
as  I  have  often  asked  both  myself  and  the  principal 
persons  here — how  is  it  possible  there  should  be  but 
one  issue  to  this  contest  ?  Yet  from  language  which  I 
heard  in  the  senate,  as  well  as  in  the  private  apart 
ments  of  the  Queen,  there  is  a  mad  confidence,  that 
after  a  battle  or  two  on  the  outskirts  of  the  kingdom,  in 
which  they  shall  conquer  as  always  heretofore,  an  ad 
vantageous  peace  will  end  the  contest.  In  the  senate, 
scarce  a  voice  was  raised  for  concession ;  its  mere  men 
tion  was  enough  to  bring  down  the  most  bitter  charges 
of  a  want  of  patriotism,  a  Koman  leaning,  a  sordid  re 
gard  to  the  interests  of  commerce  over  those  of  honor, 
a  poor  and  low-minded  spirit.  Such  as  had  courage 
to  lift  up  a  warning  voice  were  soon  silenced  by  the 
universal  clamor  of  the  opposite  party ;  and  although 
the  war  was  opposed  by  some  of  the  ablest  men  in  the 
kingdom,  men  inferior  to  none  of  those  who  have  come 
more  especially  within  my  notice,  and  whom  I  have 
named  to  you,  yet  it  is  termed  a  unanimous  decision, 
•and  so  will  be  reported  at  Rome. 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  45 

The  simple  truth  is  however  that,  with  the  exception 
of  these  very  few,  there  is  no  independent  judgment  in 
Palmyra,  on  great  national  questions.  The  Queen  is 
all.  in  all.  She  is  queen,  council  and  senate.  Here 
are  the  forms  of  a  republican  deliberation,  with  the 
reality  of  a  despotic  will.  Not  that  Zenobia  is  a  des 
potic  prince,  in  any  bad  sense  of  the  term,  but  being  of 
so  exalted  a  character,  ruling  with  such  equity  and 
wisdom ;  moreover  having  created  the  kingdom  by  her 
own  unrivalled  energies  and  genius,  it  has  become  the 
habit  of  the  people  to  defer  to  her  in  all  things ;  their 
confidence  and  love  are  so  deep  and  fervent,  that  they 
have  no  will  nor  power  now,  I  believe,  to  oppose  her 
in  any  measure  she  might  propose.  The  city  and 
country  of  Palmyra  proper  are  her  property  in  as  real 
a  sense  as  my  five  hundred  slaves,  on  my  Tiburtine 
farm,  are  mine.  Nor  is  it  very  much  otherwise  with 
many  of  the  nearer  allied  provinces.  The  same  enthu 
siasm  pervades  them.  Her  watchfulness  over  their 
interests,  her  impartiality,  her  personal  oversight  of 
them  by  means  of  the  frequent  passages  she  makes 
among  them,  have  all  contributed  to  knit  them  to  her 
by  the  closest  ties.  With  the  more  remote  portions  of 
the  empire  it  is  very  different,  and  it  would  require  the 
operation  of  but  slight  causes  to  divide  from  their  alle 
giance  Egypt,  Armenia,  and  the  provinces  of  Asia 
Minor. 

How  is  not  this  rashness,  this  folly,  to  be  deplored ! 
Could  the  early  counsels  of  Longinus  have  been  but 
heeded,  all  had  been  well.  But  he  is  now  as  much 
devoted  to  the  will  and  interests  of  Zenobia  as  any  in 
the  kingdom,  and  lends  all  the  energies  of  his  great 


46  ZENOBIA. 

mind  to  the  promotion  of  her  cause.  He  said  truly, 
that  he  like  others  is  but  a  slave  yoked  to  her  car 
His  opinion  now  is,  that  no  concessions  would  avail  to 
preserve  the  independent  existence  of  Palmyra.  The 
question  lies  between  war  and  a  voluntary  descent  to 
the  condition  of  a  Roman  province.  Nothing  less  than 
that  will  satisfy  the  ambition  and  the  pride  of  Rome. 
The  first  step  may  be  such  as  that  proposed  by  Varro 
— the  lopping  off  of  the  late  conquered  provinces, 
leaving  Zenobia  the  city,  the  circumjacent  territory, 
and  Syria.  But  a  second  step  would  soon  follow  the 
first,  and  the  foot  of  Aurelian  would  plant  itself  upon 
the  neck  of  Zenobia  herself.  This  he  felt  assured  of, 
both  from  observation  upon  the  Roman  character  and 
history,  upon  the  personal  character  of  Aurelian,  and 
from  private  advices  from  Rome.  He  is  now  accord 
ingly  the  moving  spirit  of  the  enterprise,  going  with  all 
his  heart  and  mind  into  every  measure  of  the  Queen. 

I  am  just  returned  from  a  singular  adventure.  My 
hand  trembles  as  I  write.  I  had  laid  down  my  pen 
.and  gone  forth  upon  my  Arab,  accompanied  by  Milo, 
to  refresh  and  invigorate  my  frame  after  our  late  carou 
sal — shall  I  term  it  ? — at  the  palace.  I  took  my  way, 
as  I  often  do,  to  the  Long  Portico,  that  I  might  again 
look  upon  its  faultless  beauty  and  watch  the  changing 
crowds.  Turning  from  that,  I  then  amused  my  vacant 
mind  by  posting  myself  where  I  could  overlook,  as  if  I 
were  indeed  the  builder  or  superintendent,  the  laborers 
upon  the  column  of  Aurelian.  I  became  at  length  par 
ticularly  interested  in  the  efforts  of  a  huge  elephant, 
who  was  employed  in  dragging  up  to  the  foundations 


2  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  47 

of  the  column,  so  that  they  might  be  fastened  to  ma 
chines  to  be  then  hoisted  to  their  place,  enormous 
blocks  of  marble.  He  was  a  noble  animal,  and,  as  it 
seemed  to  me,  of  far  more  than  common  size  and 
strength.  Yet  did  not  his  utmost  endeavors  appear  to 
satisfy  the  demands  of  those  who  drove  him,  and  who 
plied  without  mercy  the  barbed  scourges  which  they 
bore.  His  temper  at  length  gave  way.  He  was  chain 
ed  to  a  mass  of  rock,  which  it  was  evidently  beyond 
his  power  to  move.  It  required  the  united  strength  of 
two  at  least.  But  this  was  nothing  to  his  inhuman 
masters.  They  ceased  not  to  urge  him  with  cries  and 
blows.  One  of  them  at  length,  transported  by  that 
insane  fury  which  seizes  the  vulgar  when  their  will  is 
not  done  by  the  brute  creation,  laid  hold  upon  a  long 
lance,  terminated  with  a  sharp  iron  goad,  long  as  my 
sword,  and  rushing  upon  the  beast,  drove  it  into  his 
hinder  part.  At  that  very  moment  the  chariot  of  the 
Queen,  containing  Zenobia  herself,  Julia,  and  the  other 
princesses,  came  suddenly  against  the  column,  on  its 
way  to  the  palace.  I  made  every  possible  sign  to  the 
charioteer  to  turn  and  fly.  But  it  was  too  late.  The 
infuriated  monster  snapped  the  chains  that  held  him  to 
the  stone,  at  a  single  bound,  as  the  iron  entered  him, 
and  trampling  to  death  one  of  his  drivers,  dashed  for 
ward  to  wreak  his  vengeance  upon  the  first  object  that 
should  come  in  his  way.  That,  to  the  universal  terror 
and  distraction  of  the  now  scattered  and  flying  crowds, 
was  the  chariot  of  the  Queen.  Her  mounted  guards, 
at  the  first  onset  of  the  maddened  animal,  putting  their 
horses  to  their  speed,  by  quick  leaps  escaped.  The 
horses  attached  to  the  chariot,  springing  forward  to  do 


48  ZENOB  IA. 

the  same,  urged  by  the  lash  of  the  charioteer,  were  met 
by  the  elephant  with  straightened  trunk  and  tail,  who, 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  wreathed  his  proboscis  round 
the  neck  of  the  first  he  encountered,  and  wrenching 
him  from  his  harness,  whirled  him  aloft  and  dashed 
him  to  the  ground.  This  I  saw  was  the  moment  to 
save  the  life  of  the  Queen,  if  it  was  indeed  to  be  saved. 
Snatching  from  a  flying  soldier  his  long  spear,  and 
knowing  well  the  temper  of  my  horse,  I  ran  upon  the 
monster  as  he  disengaged  his  trunk  from  the  crushed 
and  dying  Arabian  for  a  new  assault,  and  drove  it  with 
unerring  aim  into  his  eye,  and  through  that  opening 
on  into  the  brain.  He  fell  as  if  a  bolt  from  heaven 
had  struck  him.  The  terrified  and  struggling  horses 
of  the  chariot  were  secured  by  the  now  returning 
crowds,  and  the  Queen  and  the  princesses  relieved 
from  the  peril  which  was  so  imminent,  and  bad  blanched 
with  terror  every  cheek  but  Zenobia's.  She  had  stood 
the  while,  I  was  told — there  being  no  exertion  which 
she  could  make — watching  with  eager  and  intense 
gaze  my  movements,  upon  which  she  felt  that  their 
safety,  perhaps  their  lives,  depended. 

It  all  passed  in  a  moment.  Soon  as  I  drew  out  my 
spear  from  the  dying  animal,  the  air  was  rent  with  the 
shouts  of  the  surrounding  populace.  Surely,  at  that 
moment  I  was  the  greatest,  at  least  the  most  fortunate, 
man  in  Palmyra.  These  approving  shouts,  but  still 
more  the  few  words  uttered  by  Zenobia  and  Julia, 
were  more  than  recompense  enough  for  the  small  ser 
vice  I  had  performed ;  especially,  however,  the  invita 
tion  of  the  Queen  : 

'  But  come,  noble  Piso,  leave  not  the  work  half  done ; 


ZENOBIA.  49 

we  need  now  a  protector  for  the  remainder  of  the  way. 
Ascend,  if  you  will  do  us  such  pleasure,  and  join  us 
to  the  palace.' 

I  needed  no  repeated  urging,  but  taking  the  offered 
seat — whereupon  new  acclamations  went  up  from  the 
now  augmented  throngs — I  was  driven,  as  I  conceived, 
in  a  sort  of  triumph  to  the  palace,  where  passing  an 
hour,  which  it  seems  to  me  held  more  than  all  the  rest 
of  my  life,  I  have  now  returned  to  my  apartment,  and 
relate  what  has  happened  for  your  entertainment. 
You  will  not  wonder  that  for  many  reasons  my  hand 
trembles,  and  my  letters  are  not  formed  with  their  ac 
customed  exactness. 

Again  I  am  interrupted.  What  can  be  the  meaning 
of  the  noise  and  running  to  and  fro  which  I  hear  ? 
Some  one  with  a  quick,  light  foot  approaches. 

It  is  now  night.  The  palace  is  asleep,  but  I  take 
again  my  pen  to  tell  you  of  the  accomplishment  of  the 
dear  object  for  which  I  have  wandered  to  this  distant 
spot.  Calpurnius  is  arrived  ! 

The  quick,  light  foot  by  which  I  was  disturbed  was 
Fausta's.  I  knew  it,  and  sprang  to  the  door.  She 
met  me  with  her  bright  and  glowing  countenance 
bursting  with  expression.  '  Calpurnius  ! '  said  she, 
'  your  brother  !  is  here' — and  seizing  my  hand  drew 
me  to  the  apartment  where  he  sat  by  the  side  of  Grac 
chus;  Isaac,  with  his  inseparable  pack,  standing  near. 

I  need  net,  as  I  cannot,  describe  our  meeting.  It 
was  the  meeting  of  brothers — yet  of  strangers — and 

confusion  of  wonder,  curiosity,  vague  expectation, 
VOL.  n.  5 


60  2  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

and  doubt,  possessed  the  soul  of  each.  I  trust  and 
believe,  that  notwithstanding  the  different  political  bias 
which  sways  each,  the  ancient  ties  which  bound  us 
together  as  brothers  will  again  unite  us.  The  coun 
tenance  of  Calpurnius,  though  dark  and  almost  stern 
in  its  general  expression,  yet  unbends  and  relaxes  fre 
quently  and  suddenly,  in  a  manner  that  impresses  you 
forcibly  with  an  inward  humanity  as  the  presiding 
though  often  concealed  quality  of  his  nature.  I  can 
trace  faintly  the  features  which  have  been  stamped 
upon  my  memory — and  the  form  too — chiefly  by  the 
recollected  scene  of  that  bright  morning,  when  he  with 
our  elder  brother  and  venerable  parent  gave  me  each  a 
last  embrace,  as  they  started  for  the  tents  of  Valerian. 
A  warmer  climate  has  deepened  the  olive  of  his  com 
plexion,  and  at  the  same  time  added  brilliancy  to  an 
eye  by  nature  soft  as  a  woman's.  His  Persian  dress 
increases  greatly  the  effect  of  his  rare  beauty,  yet  I 
heartily  wish  it  off,  as  it  contributes  more  I  believe 
than  the  lapse  of  so  many  years  to  separate  us.  He 
will  not  seem  and  feel  as  a  brother  till  he  returns  to 
the  costume  of  his  native  land.  How  great  this  power 
of  mere  dress  is  upon  our  affections  and  our  regard, 
you  can  yourself  bear  witness,  when  those  who  parted 
from  you  to  travel  in  foreign  countries  have  returned 
metamorphosed  into  Greeks,  Egyptians,  or  Persians, 
according  to  the  fashions  that  have  struck  their  foolish 
fancies.  The  assumed  and  foreign  air  chills  the  un- 
travelled  heart  as  it  greets  them.  They  are  no  longer 
the  same.  However  the  reason  may  strive  to  over 
come  what  seems  the  mere  prejudice  of  a  wayward 
nature,  we  strive  in  vain — nature  will  be  uppermost — 


ZENOBIA.  51 

and  many,  many  times  have  I  seen  the  former  friend 
ships  break  away  and  perish. 

I  could  not  but  be  alive  to  the  general  justness  of 
the  comparison  instituted  by  Isaac,  between  Calpurnius 
and  Julia.  There  are  many  points  of  resemblance. 
The  very  same  likeness  in  kind  that  we  so  often  ob 
serve  between  a  brother  and  sister — such  as  we  have 
often  remarked  in  our  nephew  and  niece,  Drusus  and 
Lavinia — whose  dress  being  changed,  and  they  are 
changed. 

No  sooner  had  I  greeted  and  welcomed  my  brother, 
than  I  turned  to  Isaac  and  saluted  him,  I  am  persuaded, 
with  scarcely  less  cordiality. 

'  I  sincerely  bless  the  gods,'  said  I,  '  that  you  have 
escaped  the  perils  of  two  such  passages  through  the 
desert,  and  are  safe  in  Palmyra.  May  every  wish  of 
your  heart,  concerning  your  beloved  Jerusalem,  be 
accomplished.  In  the  keeping  of  Demetrius  will  you 
find  not  only  the  single  talent  agreed  upon  in  case  you 
returned,  but  the  two  which  were  to  be  paid  had  you 
perished.  One  such  tempest  upon  the  desert,  escaped, 
is  more  and  worse  than  death  itself  met  softly  upon 
one's  bed.' 

1  Now,  Jehovah  be  praised,'  ejaculated  Isaac,  '  who 
himself  has  moved  thy  heart  to  this  grace  !  Israel  will 
feel  this  bounty  through  every  limb,  it  will  be  to  her 
as  the  oil  of  life.' 

'  And  my  debt,'  said  Calpurnius, '  is  greater  yet,  and 
should  in  reason  be  more  largely  paid.  Through  the 
hands  of  Demetrius  I  will  discharge  it.' 

'  We  are  all  bound  to  you,'  said  Fausta, '  more  than 
words  can  tell  or  money  pay.' 


52  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

'  You  owe  more  than  you  are  perhaps  aware  of  to 
the  rhetoric  of  Isaac,'  added  Calpurnius.  '  Had  it  not 
been  for  the  faithful  zeal  and  cunning  of  your  messen 
ger  in  his  arguments  not  less  than  his  contrivances,  I 
had  hardly  now  been  sitting  within  the  walls  of  Pal 
myra.' 

'  But  then  again,  noble  Roman,'  said  Isaac,  '  to  be 
honest.  I  ought  to  say  what  I  said  not — for  it  had  not 
then  occurred — in  my  letter  to  thy  brother,  how  by  my 
indiscretion  I  had  nearly  brought  upon  myself  the  wrath, 
even  unto  death,  of  a  foul  Persian  mob,  and  so  sealed 
thy  fate  together  with  my  own.  Ye  have  heard 
doubtless  of  Manes  the  Persian,  who  deems  himself 
some  great  one,  and  sent  of  God?  It  was  noised  abroad 
ere  I  left  Palmyra,  that  for  failing  in  a  much  boasted 
attempt  to  work  a  cure  by  miracle  upon  the  Prince 
Hormisdas,  he  had  been  strangled  by  order  of  Sapor. 
Had  he  done  so,  his  love  of  death-doing  had  at  length 
fallen  upon  a  proper  object,  a  true  child  of  Satan.  But 
as  I  can  testify,  his  end  was  not  such,  and  is  not  yet. 
He  still  walks  the  earth,  poisoning  the  air  he  breathes, 
and  deluding  the  souls  of  men.  Him  I  encountered  one 
day,  the  very  day  I  had  despatched  thy  letter,  in  the 
streets  of  Ecbatana,  dogged  at  the  heels  by  his  twelve 
ragged  apostles,  dragging  along  their  thin  and  bloodless 
limbs,  that  seemed  each  step  ready  to  give  way  beneath 
the  weight,  little  as  it  was,  they  had  to  bear.  Their 
master,  puffed  up  with  the  pride  of  a  reformer,  as  for 
sooth  he  holds  himself,  stalked  by  at  their  head,  drawing 
the  admiration  of  the  besotted  people  by  his  great  show 
of  sanctity,  and  the  wise  saws  which  every  now  and 
then  he  let  drop  for  the  edification  of  such  as  heard. 


Z  £  N  0  B  I  A .  53 

Some  of  these  sayings  fell  upon  my  ear,  and  who  was 
I,  to  hear  them  and  not  speak  ?  Ye  may  know  that 
this  false  prophet  has  made  it  his  aim  to  bring  into  one 
the  Magian  and  Christian  superstitions,  so  that  by  such 
incongruous  and  deadly  mixture  he  might  feed  the 
disciples  of  those  two  widely  sundered  religions,  retain 
ing,  as  he  foolishly  hoped,  enough  of  the  faith  of  each 
to  satisfy  all  who  should  receive  the  compound.  In 
doing  this  he  hath  cast  dirt  upon  the  religion  of  the 
Jew,  blasphemously  teaching  that  our  sacred  books  are 
the  work  of  the  author  of  evil,  while  those  of  Christ 
are  by  the  author  of  good.  With  more  zeal,  it  must  be 
confessed,  than  wisdom,  seeing  where  I  was  and  why 
I  was  there,  I  resisted  this  father  of  lies,  and  withstood 
him  to  his  face.  '  Who  art  thou,  bold  blasphemer,'  I 
said,  '  that  takest  away  the  Godhead,  breaking  into 
twain  that  which  is  infinite  and  indivisible  ?  Who  art 
thou  to  tread  into  the  dust  the  faith  of  Abraham,  and 
Moses,  and  the  prophets,  imputing  their  words,  uttered 
by  the  spirit  of  Jehovah,  to  the  great  enemy  of  man 
kind  ?  I  wonder,  people  of  Ecbatana,  that  the  thunders 
of  God  sleep,  and  strike  him  not  to  the  earth  as  a  rebel 
— nay,  that  the  earth  cleaveth  not  beneath  him  and 
swalloweth  him  not  up,  as  once  before  the  rebels  Korah, 
Dathan,  and  Abiram;'  and  much  more  in  the  same  mad 
way,  till  while  I  was  yet  speaking,  those  lean  and  hun 
gry  followers  of  his  set  upon  me  with  violence,  crying 
out  against  me  as  a  Jew,  and  stirring  up  the  people,  who 
were  nothing  unwilling,  but  fell  upon  me,  and  throwing 
me  down,  dragged  me  to  a  gate  of  the  city,  arid  casting 
me  out  as  I  had  been  a  dead  dog,  returned  themselves 
like  dogs  to  their  vomit — that  accursed  dish  of  Mani- 
VOL.  n.  5* 


64  ZENOBIA. 

chean  garbage.  I  believed  myself  for  a  long  while 
surely  dead ;  and  in  my  half  conscious  state  took  shame 
to  myself,  as  I  was  bound  to  do,  for  meddling  in  the 
affairs  of  Pagan  misbelievers — putting  thy  safety  at 
risk.  Through  the  compassion  of  an  Arab  woman 
dwelling  without  the  walls,  I  was  restored  and  healed 
— for  whose  sake  I  shall  ever  bless  the  Ishmaelite.  I 
doubt  not,  Roman,  while  I  lay  at  the  hut  of  that  good 
woman,  thou  thoughtest  me  a  false  man  ? ' 

'  I  could  not  but  think  so,'  said  Calpurnius,  '  and 
after  the  strong  desire  of  escape  which  you  had  at 
length  kindled,  I  assure  you  I  heaped  curses  upon  you 
in  no  stinted  measure.' 

'  But  all  has  ended  well  and  so  all  is  well,'  said 
Fausta, '  and  it  was  perhaps  too  much  to  expect,  Isaac, 
that  you  should  stand  quietly  by  and  hear  the  religion 
of  your  fathers  traduced.  You  are  well  rewarded  for 
what  you  did  and  suffered,  by  the  light  in  which  your 
tribe  will  now  regard  you,  as  an  alrnost-martyr,  and 
owing  to  no  want  of  will,  or  endeavor  on  your  part, 
that  almost  did  not  end  in  quite.  Hannibal,  good 
Isaac,  will  now  see  to  your  entertainment.' 

'  One  word  if  it  please  you,'  said  Isaac,  '  before  I 
depart.  The  gentile  despises  the  Jew.  He  charges 
upon  him  usury  and  extortion.  He  accuses  him  of 
avarice.  He  believes  him  to  subsist  upon  the  very 
I  ife  blood  of  whomsoever  he  can  draw  into  his  meshes. 
1  have  known  those  who  have  firm  faith  that  the  Jew 
il-cds  but  upon  the  flesh  and  blood  of  Pagan  and  Chris 
ten  infants,  whom,  by  necromantic  power,  he  beguiles 
Loai  their  homes.  He  is  held  as  the  common  enemy 
oi  man,  a  universal  robber,  whom  all  are  bound  to  hate 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  55 

and  oppress.  Reward  me  now  with  your  belief,  better 
than  even  the  two  gold  talents  I  have  earned,  that  all 
are  not  such.  This  is  the  charity,  and  all  that  I  would 
beg ;  and  I  beg  it  of  you,  for  that  I  love  you  all,  and 
would  have  your  esteem.  Believe  that  in  the  Jew 
there  is  a  heart  of  flesh  as  well  as  in  a  dog.  Believe 
that  some  noble  ambition  visits  his  mind  as  well  as 
yours.  Credit  it  not — it  is  against  nature — that  any 
tribe  of  man  is  what  you  make  the  Jew.  Look  upon 
me,  and  behold  the  emblem  of  my  tribe.  What  do  you 
see  ?  A  man  bent  with  years  and  toil ;  this  ragged 
tunic  his  richest  garb ;  his  face  worn  with  the  storms 
of  all  climates;  a  wanderer  over  the  earth;  my  home 
— Piso,  thou  hast  seen  it — a  single  room,  with  my 
good  dromedary's  furniture  for  my  bed  at  night,  and 
my  seat  by  day ;  this  pack  my  only  apparent  wealth. 
Yet  here  have  I  now  received  two  gold  talents  of  Jeru 
salem  ! — what  most  would  say  were  wealth  enough, 
and  this  is  not  the  tythe  of  that  which  I  possess. 
What  then?  Is  it  for  that  I  love  obscurity,  slavery, 
and  a  beggar's  raiment,  that  I  live  and  labor  thus,  when 
my  wealth  would  raise  me  to  a  prince's  state?  Or  is 
it  that  I  love  to  sit  and  count  my  hoarded  gains  ?  Good 
friends,  for  such  you  are,  believe  it  not.  You  have 
found  me  faithful  and  true  to  my  engagements ;  believe 
my  word  also.  You  have  heard  of  Jerusalem,  once 
the  chief  city  of  the  East,  where  stood  the  great  temple 
of  our  faith,  and  which  was  the  very  heart  of  our  nation, 
and  you  know  how  it  was  beleaguered  by  the  Romans, 
and  its  very  foundations  rooted  up,  and  her  inhabitants 
driven  abroad  as  outcasts,  to  wander  over  the  face  of 
the  earth,  with  every  where  a  country,  but  no  where  a 


56  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A. 

home.  And  does  the  Jew,  think  you,  sit  down  quietly 
under  these  wrongs  ?  Trajan's  reign  may  answer  that. 
Is  there  no  patriotism  yet  alive  in  the  bosom  of  a  Jew  ? 
Will  every  other  toil  and  die  for  his  country  and  not 
the  Jew  ?  Believe  rne  again,  the  prayers  which  go  up 
morning,  noon  and  night,  for  the  restoration  of  Jerusa 
lem,  are  not  fewer  than  those  which  go  up  for  Rome 
or  Palmyra.  And  their  deeds  are  not  less ;  for  every 
prayer  there  are  two  acts.  It  is  for  Jerusalem !  that 
you  behold  me  thus  in  rags,  and  yet  rich.  It  is  for  her 
glory  that  I  am  the  servant  of  all  and  the  scorn  of  all, 
that  I  am  now  pinched  by  the  winters  of  Byzantium, 
now  scorched  by  Jie  heats  of  Asia,  and  buried  beneath 
the  sands  of  the  desert.  All  that  I  have  and  am  is  for 
Jerusalem.  And  in  telling  you  of  myself,  I  have  told 
you  of  my  tribe.  What  we  do  and  are  is  not  for  our 
selves,  but  for  our  country.  Friends,  the  hour  of  our 
redemption  draweth  nigh.  The  Messiah  treads  in  the 
steps  of  Zenobia !  and  when  the  East  shall  behold  the 
disasters  of  Aurelian — as  it  will — it  will  behold  the 
restoration  of  that  empire,  which  is  destined  in  the 
lapse  of  ages  to  gather  to  itself  the  glory  and  dominion 
of  the  whole  earth.' 

Saying  these  words,  during  which  he  seemed  no 
longer  Isaac  the  Jew,  but  the  very  Prince  of  the  Cap 
tivity  himself,  he  turned  and  took  his  departure. 

Long  and  earnest  conversation  now  ensued,  in  which 
we  received  from  Calpurnius  the  most  exact  accounts 
of  his  whole  manner  of  life  during  his  captivity ;  of 
his  early  sufferings  and  disgraces,  and  his  late  honors 
and  elevation ;  and  gave  in  return  similar  details  con 
cerning  the  history  of  our  family  and  of  Rome,  during 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  57 

the  same  period  of  time.  I  will  not  pretend  to  set  down 
the  narrative  of  Calpurnius.  It  was  delivered  with  a 
grace  which  I  can  by  no  means  transfer  to  these  pages. 
I  trust  you  may  one  day  hear  it  from  his  own  lips. 
Neither  can  I  tell  you  how  beautiful  it  was  to  see 
Fausta  hanging  upon  his  words,  with  a  devotion  that 
made  her  insensible  to  all  else — her  varying  color  and 
changing  expression  showing  how  deeply  she  sympa 
thized  with  the  narrator.  When  he  had  ended,  and  we 
had  become  weary  of  the  excitement  of  this  first  inter 
view,  Fausta  proposed  that  we  should  separate  to  meet 
again  at  supper.  To  this  we  agreed. 

According  to  the  proposal  of  Fausta,  we  were  again, 
soon  as  evening  had  come,  assembled  around  the  table 
of  the  princely  Gracchus. 

When  we  had  partaken  of  the  luxuries  of  the  feast, 
and  various  lighter  discourse  had  caused  the  time  to 
pass  by  in  an  agreeable  manner,  I  said  thus,  turning 
to  my  brother : 

'  I  would,  Calpurnius,  that  the  temper  of  one's  mind 
could  as  easily  be  changed  as  one's  garments.  You 
now  seem  to  me,  having  put  off  your  Persian  robes,  far 
more  like  Piso  than  before.  Your  dress,  though  but 
in  part  Roman  and  part  Palmyrene,  still  brings  you 
nearer.  Were  it  wholly  Roman  it  were  better.  Is 
nothing  of  the  Persian  really  put.  off,  and  nothing  of 
the  Roman  put  on,  by  this  change  ? ' 

'  Whatever  of  the  Persian  there  was  about  me,'  re 
plied  Calpurnius,  '  I  am  free  to  say  I  have  laid  aside 
with  my  Persian  attire.  I  was  a  Persian  not  by  choice 
and  preference,  I  need  scarcely  assure  you,  but  by  a 
sort  of  necessity,  just  as  it  was  with  my  costume.  I 


58  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

could  not  procure  Roman  clothes  if  I  would.  I  could 
not  help  too  putting  off  the  Roman — seeing  how  I  was 
dealt  by — and  putting  on  the  Persian.  Yet  I  part 
with  whatever  of  the  Persian  has  cleaved  to  me  with 
out  reluctance — would  it  were  so  that  I  could  again 
assume  the  Roman — but  that  can  never  be.  But  Isaac 
has  already  told  you  all.' 

*  Isaac  has  indeed  informed  me  in  his  letter  from 
Ecbatana,  that  you  had  renounced  your  country,  and 
that  it  was  the  expectation  of  war  with  Rome  that  alone 
had  power  to  draw  you  from  your  captivity.     But  I 
have  not  believed  that  you  would  stand  by  that  deter 
mination.     The  days  of  republican  patriotism  I  know 
are  passed,  but  even  now  under  the  empire  our  coun 
try  has  claims  and  her  children  owe  her  duties.' 

*  The  figure  is  a  common  one,'  Calpurnius  answered, 
'  by  which  our  country  is  termed  a  parent,  and  we  her 
children.     Allow  it  just.     Do  I  owe  obedience  to  an 
unjust  or  tyrannical  parent?  to  one  who  has  abandoned 
me  in  helplessness  or  exposed  me  in  infancy  ?     Are 
not  the  natural  ties  then  sundered  ? ' 

'  I  think  not,'  I  replied ;  '  no  provocation  nor  injury 
can  justify  a  parricidal  blow.  Our  parent  is  our  creator 
— in  some  sense  a  God  to  us.  The  tie  that  binds  us 
to  him  is  like  no  other  tie  ;  to  do  it  violence,  is  not  only 
a  wrong,  but  an  impiety.' 

'  I  cannot  think  so,'  he  rejoined.  'A  parent  is  our 
creator,  not  so  much  for  our  good  as  his  own  pleasure. 
In  the  case  of  the  gods  this  is  reversed :  they  have 
given  us  being  for  our  advantage,  not  theirs.  We  lie 
under  obligation  to  a  parent  then,  only  as  he  fulfils  the 
proper  duties  of  one.  When  he  ceases  to  be  virtuous, 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  59 

the  child  must  cease  to  respect.  When  he  ceases  to 
be  just,  or  careful,  or  kind,  the  child  must  cease  to  love. 
And  from  whomsoever  else  then  the  child  receives  the 
treatment  becoming  a  parent,  that  person  is  to  him  the 
true  parent.  It  is  idle  to  be  governed  by  names  rather 
than  things;  it  is  more,  it  is  mischievous  arid  injurious.' 

*  I  still  am  of  opinion,'  I  replied,  *  that  nature  has 
ordained  what  I  have  asserted  to  be  an  everlasting  and 
universal  truth,  by  the  instincts  which  she  has  implant 
ed.  All  men,  of  all  tribes,  have  united  in  expressions 
of  horror  against  him  who  does  violence  to  his  parents. 
And  have  not  the  poets  truly  painted,  when  they  have 
set  before  us  the  parricide,  forever  after  the  guilty  act, 
pursued  by  the  Furies,  and  delivered  over  to  their 
judicial  torments  ? ' 

'  All  instincts,'  he  replied,  '  are  not  to  be  defended  : 
some  animals  devour  their  own  young  as  soon  as 
born.  Vice  is  instinctive.  If  it  be  instinctive  to  honor, 
and  love,  and  obey  a  vicious  parent,  to  be  unresisting 
under  the  most  galling  oppression,  then  I  say,  the 
sooner  reason  usurps  the  place  of  instinct  the  safer  for 
mankind.  No  error  can  be  more  gross  or  hurtful,  than 
to  respect  vice  because  of  the  person  in  whom  it  is 
embodied,  even  though  that  person  be  a  parent.  Vice 
is  vice,  injustice  is  injustice,  wrong  is  wrong,  where 
soever  they  are  found ;  and  are  to  be  detested  and 
withstood.  But  I  might  admit  that  I  am  in  an  error 
here;  and  still  maintain  my  cause  by  denying  the  jus 
tice  of  the  figure  by  which  our  country  is  made  our 
parent,  and  our  obligations  to  her  made  to  rest  on  the 
same  ground.  It  is  mere  fancy,  it  is  a  nullity,  unless 
.  be  true,  as  I  think  it  is,  that  it  has  been  the  source 


60  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A . 

of  great  mischiefs  to  the  world,  in  which  case  it  can 
not  be  termed  a  nullity,  but  something  positively  per 
nicious.  What  age  of  the  world  can  be  named  when 
an  insane  devotion  to  one's  country  has  not  been  the 
mother  of  war  upon  war,  evil  upon  evil,  beyond  the 
power  of  memory  to  recount  ?  Patriotism,  standing  for 
this  instinctive  slavery  of  the  will,  has  cursed  as  much 
as  it  has  blessed  mankind.  Men  have  not  reasoned, 
they  have  only  felt :  they  have  not  inquired,  is  the 
cause  of  my  country  just — but  is  it  her  cause  ?  That 
has  ever  been  the  cry  in  Rome.  "  Our  country  !  our 
country! — right  or  wrong — our  country!"  It  is  a 
maxim  good  for  conquest  and  despotism;  bad,  for 
peace  and  justice.  It  has  made  Rome  mistress  of  the 
world,  and  at  the  same  time  the  scourge  of  the  world, 
and  trodden  down  into  their  own  blood-stained  soil  the 
people  of  many  a  clime,  who  had  else  dwelt  in  freedom. 
I  am  no  Roman  in  this  sense,  and  ought  never  to  have 
been.  Admit  that  I  am  not  justified  in  raising  my 
hand  against  the  life  of  a  parent — tnough  if  I  could 
defend  myself  against  violence  no  otherwise,  I  should 
raise  that  hand — I  will  never  allow  that  I  am  to  approve 
and  second  with  my  best  blood  all  the  acts  of  my  coun 
try  ;  but  when  she  errs  am  bound,  on  the  other  hand, 
to  blame,  and  if  need  be  oppose.  Why  not  ?  What  is 
this  country  ?  Men  like  myself.  Who  enact  the  de 
crees  by  which  I  am  to  be  thus  bound?  Senators,  no 
more  profoundly  wise  perhaps,  and  no  more  irreproach 
ably  virtuous,  than  myself.  And  do  I  owe  their  judg 
ments,  which  I  esteem  false,  a  dearer  allegiance  than 
I  do  to  my  own,  which  I  esteem  right  and  true  ? 
Never :  such  patriotism  is  a  degradation  and  a  vice. 


ZE  NOBIA.  61 

Rome,  Lucius,  I  think  to  have  dealt  by  me  and  the 
miserable  men  who,  with  me,  fell  into  the  hands  of 
Sapor,  after  the  manner  of  a  selfish,  cold-hearted,  un 
natural  parent,  and  I  renounce  her,  and  all  allegiance 
to  her.  I  am  from  this  hour  a  Palmyrene,  Zenobia  is 
my  mother,  Palmyra  my  country.' 

*  But,'  I  could  not  but  still  urge,  *  should  no  distinc 
tion  be  made  between  your  country  and  her  emperor  ? 
Is  the  country  to  rest  under  the  imputation  which  is 
justly  perhaps  cast  upon  him  ?  That  were  hardly  right. 
To  renounce  Gallienus,  were  he  now  emperor,  were  a 
defensible  act :  But  why  Rome  or  Aurelian  ? ' 

'  I  freely  grant,  that  had  a  just  emperor  been  put  upon 
the  throne,  a  man  with  human  feelings,  the  people,  had 
he  projected  our  rescue  or  revenge,  would  have  gone 
with  him.  But  how  is  their  conduct  to  be  defended 
during  the  long  reign  of  the  son  of  Valerian  ?  Was 
such  a  people  as  the  people  of  Rome  to  conform  their 
minds  and  acts  to  a  monster  like  him?  Was  that  the 
part  of  a  great  nation  ?  Is  it  credible  that  the  senate 
and  the  people  together,  had  no  power  to  compel  Gal 
lienus  to  the  performance  of  his  duties  to  his  own  father, 
and  the  brave  legions  who  fell  with  him  ?  Alas  !  they 
too  wanted  the  will.' 

'  0  not  so,  Calpurnius,'  I  rejoined ;  '  Gallienus  wished 
the  death  or  captivity  of  his  father,  that  he  might  reign. 
To  release  him  was  the  last  act  that  wretch  could  have 
been  urged  to  do.  And  could  he  then  have  been  made 
to  interpose  for  the  others  ?  He  might  have  been  assas 
sinated,  but  all  the  power  of  Rome  could  not  have  com 
pelled  him  to  a  war,  the  issue  of  which  might  have  been, 
by  the  rescue  of  Valerian,  to  lose  him  his  throne.' 

VOL.  II.  6 


62  ZENOBIA. 

'  Then  he  should  have  been  assassinated.  Rome 
owed  herself  a  greater  duty  than  allegiance  to  a  beast 
in  human  form.' 

1  But,  Calpurnius,  you  now  enjoy  your  liberty.  Why 
consider  so  curiously  whence  it  comes  ?  Besides,  you 
have,  while  in  Persia,  dwelt  in  comfort,  and  at  last 
even  in  magnificence.  The  Prince  himself  has  been 
your  companion  and  friend.' 

'What  was  it,'  he  replied,  'what  was  it,  when  I 
reflected  upon  myself,  but  so  much  deeper  degradation, 
to  find  that  in  spite  of  myself  I  was  every  day  sinking 
deeper  and  deeper  in  Persian  effeminacy  ?  What  was 
it  but  the  worst  wretchedness  of  all  to  feel  as  I  did,  that 
I,  a  Roman  and  a  Piso,  was  losing  my  nature  as  I  had 
lost  my  country  ?  If  any  thing  served  to  turn  my 
blood  into  one  hot  current  of  bitterness  and  revenge,  it 
was  this.  It  will  never  cool  till  I  find  myself,  sword  in 
hand,  under  the  banners  of  Zenobia.  Urge  me  no 
more  :  it  were  as  hopeful  an  endeavor  to  stem  the  cur 
rent  of  the  Euphrates,  as  to  turn  me  from  my  purpose. 
I  have  reasoned  with  you  because  you  are  a  brother, 
not  because  you  are  a  Roman.' 

'And  I,'  I  replied,  '  can  still  love  you,  because  you 
are  a  brother,  nor  less  because  you  are  also  a  Palmy- 
rene.  I  greet  you  as  the  head  of  our  house,  the  elder 
heir  of  an  illustrious  name.  I  still  will  hope,  that  when 
these  troubles  cease,  Rome  may  claim  you  as  her  own.' 

'  No  emperor,'  he  answered, '  unless  he  were  a  Piso, 
I  fear,  would  permit  a  renegade  of  such  rank  ever  to 
dwell  within  the  walls  of  Rome.  Let  me  rather  hope, 
that  when  this  war  is  ended,  Portia  may  exchange 
Rome  for  Palmyra,  and  that  here,  upon  this  fair  and 


ZE  NOBI  A  .  63 

neutral  ground,  the  Pisos  may  once  more  dwell  beneath 
the  same  roof.' 

'  May  it  be  so,'  said  Gracchus ;  '  and  let  not  the 
heats  of  political  opposition  change  the  kindly  current 
of  your  blood,  nor  inflame  it.  You,  Lucius  Piso,  are 
to  remember  the  provocations  of  Calpurnius,  and  are  to 
feel  that  there  was  a  nobleness  in  that  sensibility  to  a 
declension  into  Persian  effeminacy  that,  to  say  the 
least,  reflects  quite  as  much  honor  upon  the  name  of 
Piso,  and  even  Roman,  as  any  loyalty  to  an  emperor 
like  Gallienus,  or  that  senate  filled  with  his  creatures. 
And  you,  Calpurnius  Piso,  are  to  allow  for  that  instinc 
tive  veneration  for  every  thing  Roman  which  grows  up 
with  the  Roman,  and  even  in  spite  of  his  better  reason 
ripens  into  a  bigotry  that  deserves  the  name  of  a  crime 
rather  than  a  virtue,  and  are  to  consider,  that  while  in 
you  the  growth  of  this  false  sentiment  has  been  checked 
by  causes,  in  respect  to  which  you  were  the  sport  of 
fortune,  so  in  Lucius  it  has  been  quickened  by  other 
causes  over  which  he  also  was  powerless.  But  to 
utter  my  belief,  Lucius  I  think  is  now  more  than  half 
Palmyrene,  and  I  trust  yet,  if  committed  as  he  has  been 
to  the  further  tuition  of  our  patriot  Fausta,  will  be  not 
only  in  part,  but  altogether  of  our  side.' 

*  In  the  mean  time,  let  us  rejoice,'  said  Fausta,  '  that 
the  noble  Calpurnius  joins  our  cause.  If  we  may 
judge  by  the  eye,  the  soft  life  of  a  Persian  Satrap  has 
not  quite  exhausted  the  native  Roman  vigor.' 

'  I  have  never  intermitted,'  replied  Calpurnius,  '  mar 
tial  exercises :  especially  have  I  studied  the  whole  art 
of  horsemanship,  so  far  as  the  chase  and  military  dis 
cipline  can  teach  it.  It  is  in  her  cavalry,  as  I  learn, 


64  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

that  Zenobia  places  her  strength :  I  shall  there,  I  trust, 
do  her  good  service.' 

1  In  the  morning,'  said  Fausta,  *  it  shall  be  my  office 
to  bring  you  before  our  Queen.' 

'  And  now,  Fausta,'  said  Gracchus, '  bring  your  harp, 
and  let  music  perfect  the  harmony  which  reason  and 
philosophy  have  already  so  well  begun ;  music — which 
for  its  power  over  our  souls,  may  rather  be  held  an 
influence  of  the  gods,  a  divine  breathing,  than  any 
thing  of  mortal  birth.' 

'  I  fear,'  said  Fausta,  as  she  touched  the  instrument 
— the  Greek  and  not  the  Jewish  harp — « I  shall  still 
further  task  your  philosophy ;  for  I  can  sing  nothing 
else  than  the  war-song,  which  is  already  heard  all 
through  the  streets  of  Palmyra,  and  whose  author,  it  is 
said,  is  no  less  than  our  chief  spirit,  Longinus.  Lucius, 
you  must  close  your  ears.' 

'  Never,  while  your  voice  sounds,  though  bloody 
treason  were  the  only  burden.' 

*  You  are  a  gentle  Roman.' 

Then  after  a  brief  but  fiery  prelude,  which  of  itself 
struck  by  her  fingers  was  enough  to  send  life  into 
stones,  she  broke  forth  into  a  strain,  abrupt  and  impas 
sioned,  of  wild  Pindaric  energy,  that  seemed  the  very 
war-cry  of  a  people  striking  and  dying  for  liberty. 
Her  voice,  inspired  by  a  soul  too  large  for  mortal  form, 
rang  like  a  trumpet  through  the  apartment,  and  seemed 
to  startle  the  gods  themselves  at  their  feast.  As  the 
hymn  moved  on  to  its  perfect  close,  and  the  voice  of 
Fausta  swelled  with  the  waxing  theme,  Calpurnius 
seemed  like  one  entranced;  unconsciously  he  had  left 
his  seat,  and  there,  in  the  midst  of  the  room,  stood  be  • 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  65 

fore  the  divine  girl  converted  to  a  statue.  As  she 
ceased,  the  eyes  of  Calpurnius  fell  quickly  upon  me, 
with  an  expression  which  I  instantly  interpreted,  and 
should  have  instantly  returned,  but  that  we  were  all 
alike  roused  out  of  ourselves  by  the  loud  shouts  of  a 
multitude  without  the  palace,  who  apparently  had  been 
drawn  together  by  the  far-reaching  tones  of  Fausta's 
voice,  and  who,  as  soon  as  the  last  strings  of  the  harp 
were  touched,  testified  their  delight  by  reiterated  and 
enthusiastic  cries. 

'  When  Zabdas  and  Zenobia  fail,'  said  Calpurnius, 
*  you,  daughter  of  Gracchus,  may  lead  the  armies  of 
your  country  by  your  harp  and  voice ;  they  would  in 
spire  not  less  than  the  fame  of  Caesar  or  Aurelian.' 

'  But  be  it  known  to  you,  Piso,'  said  Gracchus,  '  that 
this  slight  girl  can  wield  a  lance  or  a  sword,  while 
centaur-like  she  grows  to  the  animal  she  rides,  as  well 
as  sweep  these  idle  strings.' 

*  I  will  learn  of  her  in  either  art,'  replied  my  brother. 
'  As  I  acknowledge  no  instinct  which  is  to  bind  me  to 
an  unjust  parent,  but  will  give  honor  only  where  there 
is  virtue,  so  on  the  field  of  war  I  will  enlist  under  any 
leader  in  whom  I  behold  the  genius  of  a  warrior,  be 
that  leader  man  or  woman,  boy  or  girl.' 

'  I  shall  be  satisfied,'  said  Fausta,  *  to  become  your 
teacher  in  music,  that  is,  if  you  can  learn  through  the 
force  of  example  alone.  Take  now  another  lesson. 
Zenobia  shall  teach  you  the  art  of  war.' 

With  these  words  she  again  passed  her  fingers  over 
her  harp,  and  after  strains  of  melting  sweetness,  pro 
longed  till  our  souls  were  wholly  subdued  to  the  sway 
of  the  gentler  emotions,  she  sang  in  words  of  Sappho, 

VOL.    II.  6^ 


66  ZENOBIA. 

the  praise  of  love  and  peace,  twin-sisters.  And  then  as 
we  urged,  or  named  to  her,  Greek  or  Roman  airs  which 
we  wished  to  hear,  did  she  sing  and  play  till  every 
sense  was  satisfied  and  filled. 

It  needs  not  so  much  sagacity  as  I  possess  to  perceive 
the  effect  upon  my  brother  of  the  beauty  and  powers 
of  Fausta.  He  speaks  with  difficulty  when  he  addresses 
her,  and  while  arguing  or  conversing  with  me  or 
Gracchus,  his  eye  seeks  her  countenance,  and  then 
falls  as  it  encounters  hers,  as  if  he  had  committed  some 
crime.  Fausta,  I  am  sure,  is  not  insensible  to  the 
many  rare  and  striking  qualities  of  Calpurnius  :  but 
her  affections  can  be  given  only  where  there  is  a  soul 
of  very  uncommon  elevation.  Whether  Calpurnius  is 
throughout  that,  which  he  seems  to  be,  and  whether  he 
is  worthy  the  love  of  a  being  like  Fausta,  I  know  not 
yet,  though  I  am  strong  in  faith  that  it  is  so.  In  the 
mean  time,  a  mutual  affection  is  springing  up  and 
growing  upon  the  thin  soil  of  the  fancy,  and  may 
reach  a  quick  and  rank  luxuriance  before  it  shall  be 
discovered  that  there  is  nothing  more  substantial  be 
neath.  But  why  indulge  a  single  doubt  ?  only,  I  sup 
pose,  because  I  would  rather  Rome  should  fall  than 
that  any  harm  come  to  the  heart  of  Fausta. 

It  was  a  little  after  the  noon  of  this  day  that  the 
ambassadors,  Petronius  and  Varro,  passed  from  out  the 
gates  of  Palmyra,  bearing  with  them  a  virtual  declara 
tion  of  war. 

The  greatest  excitement  prevails.  The  streets  are 
already  filled  with  sights  and  sounds  admonitory  of  the 
scenes  which  are  soon  to  be  disclosed.  There  is  the 


ZENOBIA.  67 

utmost  enthusiasm  in  every  quarter,  and  upon  every 
face  you  behold  the  confidence  and  pride  of  those  who, 
accustomed  to  conquest,  are  about  to  extend  their 
dominion  over  new  territories,  and  to  whom  war  is  a 
game  of  pleasure  rather  than  a  dark  hazard,  that  may 
end  in  utter  desolation  and  ruin.  Intrenched  within 
these  massy  walls,  the  people  of  this  gay  capital  cannot 
realize  war.  Its  sounds  have  ever  been  afar  off,  beyond 
the  wide  sweep  of  the  deserts ;  and  will  be  now,  so 
they  judge — and  they  are  scarcely  turned  for  a  moment, 
or  by  the  least  remove,  from  their  accustomed  cares  or 
pleasures. 


68  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  « 


LETTER    XII. 

I  LAMENT  to  hear  of  the  disturbance  among  your 
slaves,  and  of  the  severity  with  which  you  have  thought 
it  necessary  to  proceed  against  them.  You  will  bear 
me  witness  that  I  have  often  warned  you  that  the  cru 
elty  with  which  Tiro  exercised  his  authority  would 
lead  to  difficulties,  if  not  to  violence  and  murder.  I 
am  not  surprised  to  learn  his  fate :  I  am  indeed  very 
free  to  say  that  I  rejoice  at  it.  I  rejoice  not  that  you 
are  troubled  in  your  affairs,  but  that  such  an  inhuman 
overseer  as  Tiro,  a  man  wholly  unworthy  the  kindness 
and  indulgence  with  which  you  have  treated  him, 
should  at  length  be  overtaken  by  a  just  retribution. 
That  the  poison  took  effect  upon  his  wife  and  children 
I  sincerely  regret,  and  wish  that  some  other  mode  of 
destruction  had  been  chosen,  whose  effects  could  have 
been  safely  directed  and  limited,  for  I  do  not  believe 
that  the  least  ill-will  existed  toward  Claudia  and  her 
little  ones.  But  rest  satisfied,  I  beseech  you,  with  the 
punishments  already  inflicted :  enough  have  been 
scourged,  put  to  the  torture,  and  crucified :  let  the  rest 
escape.  Remember  your  disposition,  now  indulgent, 
now  tyrannical,  and  lay  a  restraint  upon  your  passions 
if  you  would  save  yourself  from  lasting  regrets.  It  is 
some  proof  that  you  are  looking  to  yourself  more  than 
formerly,  that  so  many  have  been  imprisoned  to  wait 
a  further  deliberation,  and  that  you  are  willing  first  to 
ask  my  opinion.  Be  assured  that  further  crucifixions 
would  serve  only  to  exasperate  those  who  survive,  and 


ZENOBIA.  09 

totally  alienate  them  from  you,  so  that  your  own  life, 
instead  of  being  the  more  safe,  would  be  much  less  so. 
They  will  be  driven  to  despair,  and  say  that  they  may 
as  well  terminate  their  wretched  lives  in  one  way  as 
another,  and  so  end  all  at  once  by  an  assault  upon 
yourself  and  Lucilia,  which,  while  it  destroyed  you, 
and  so  glutted  their  revenge,  could  do  no  more  than 
destroy  them — a  fate  which  they  dread  now — but  which 
at  all  times,  owing  to  their  miseries,  they  dread  much 
less  than  we  suppose,  and  so  are  more  willing  than  we 
imagine  to  take  the  lives  of  their  masters  or  governors, 
not  caring  for  death  themselves.  A  well-timed  lenity 
would  now  be  an  act  of  policy  as  well  as  of  virtue. 
Those  whom  you  have  reprieved,  being  pardoned,  will 
be  bound  to  you  by  a  sort  of  gratitude — those  of  them 
at  least  who  put  a  value  upon  their  lives — and  now 
that  Tiro  is  fairly  out  of  the  way,  and  his  scourgings 
at  an  end,  they  will  all  value  their  lives  at  a  higher 
rate  than  before. 

But  let  me  especially  intercede  for  Laco  and  Cselia, 
with  their  children.  It  was  they,  who,  when  I  have 
been  at  your  farm,  have  chiefly  attended  upon  me; 
they  have  done  me  many  acts  of  kindness  beyond  the 
mere  duties  of  their  office,  and  have  ever  manifested 
dispositions  so  gentle,  and  so  much  above  their  condi 
tion,  that  I  feel  sure  they  cannot  be  guilty  of  taking 
any  part  in  the  crime.  They  have  been  always  too 
happy,  to  put  their  all  at  risk  by  such  an  attempt.  Be 
assured  they  are  innocent ;  and  they  are  too  good  to 
be  sacrificed  merely  for  the  effect.  There  are  others, 
wretches  in  all  respects,  who  will  serve  for  this,  if 
enough  have  not  already  suffered. 


70  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

When  will  sentiments  of  justice  assert  their  supre 
macy  in  the  human  mind  ?  When  will  our  laws  and 
institutions  recognise  the  rights  inherent  in  every  man, 
as  man,  and  compel  their  observance  ?  When  I  reflect 
that  I  myself  possess,  upon  one  only  of  my  estates,  five 
hundred  slaves,  over  whom  I  wield  despotic  power, 
and  that  each  one  of  these  differs  not  from  myself 
except  in  the  position  into  which  fortune  and  our  laws 
have  cast  him,  I  look  with  a  sort  of  horror  upon  my 
self,  the  laws,  and  my  country  which  enacts  and  main 
tains  them.  But  if  we  cannot  at  once  new-model  our 
institutions  and  laws,  we  can  do  something.  By  a  strict 
justice,  and  by  merciful  treatment,  we  can  mitigate  the 
evils  of  their  lot  who  are  within  our  own  power.  We 
can  exercise  the  authority  and  temper  of  fathers,  and 
lay  aside  in  a  greater  degree  than  we  do,  the  air  and 
manner  of  tyrant.  When  upon  the  fields  of  every 
farm,  as  I  ride  through  our  interior,  I  hear  the  lash  of 
the  task-master,  and  behold  the  cross  rearing  aloft  its 
victim  to  poison  the  air  with  fostid  exhalations  and 
strike  terror  into  all  who  toil  within  their  reach,  I  hate 
my  country  and  my  nature,  and  long  for  some  power 
to  reveal  itself,  I  care  not  of  what  kind  nor  in  what 
quarter,  capable  to  reform  a  state  of  society,  rotten  as 
this  is  to  its  very  heart. 

You  yourself,  advocate  as  you  are  for  the  existing 
order  of  things,  would  be  agitated  alternately  by  horror 
and  compassion,  were  I  to  relate  to  you  the  scenes 
described  to  me  by  Milo,  as  having  a  thousand  times 
been  witnessed  by  him  when  in  the  service  of  Gallie- 
nus.  To  torture  and  destroy  his  slaves,  by  the  most 
ingenious  devices  of  cruelty,  was  his  daily  pastime. 


^  <^ 

ZENOBIA.  71 

They  were  purchased  for  this  very  end.  When  I  see 
you  again,  I  will  give  you  instances  with  which  I 
could  not  soil  these  pages.  Antiochus,  were  he  in 
Rome,  would  be  a  monster  of  the  same  stamp.  But 
all  this  is,  as  I  have  often  mentioned,  a  necessary  ac 
companiment  of  such  power  as  the  laws  confer  upon 
the  owner. 

And  now,  that  war  has  actually  broken  out  between 
Palmyra  and  Rome,  you  will  wish  to  know  what  part 
I  intend  to  take.  Your  letters  imply,  that  in  such  an 
event  you  would  expect  my  immediate  return.  But 
this  pleasure  must,  for  the  present  at  least,  be  deferred. 
I  am  too  deeply  interested  in  too  many  here,  to  allow 
me  to  forsake  them  in  a  time  of  so  much  anxiety,  and 
as  I  think  of  peril  too.  Zenobia's  full  consent  I  have 
already  obtained :  indeed,  she  is  now  desirous  that  I 
should  remain.  The  services  that  I  have  accidentally 
rendered  her  have  increased  the  regard  with  which 
she  treats  me.  I  confess  too  that  I  am  less  unwilling 
to  remain  than  I  was,  out  of  a  rooted  disapprobation  of 
the  violent  course  of  Aurelian.  I  cannot,  as  Calpur- 
nius  has  done,  renounce  my  country  ;  but  I  can  blame 
our  emperor.  His  purposes  are  without  a  color  of 
justice :  nor  are  they  only  unjust  and  iniquitous,  they 
are  impolitic.  I  can  enter  fully  into  and  defend  the 
feelings  and  arguments  of  Palmyra  in  this  direction. 
Her  cause  is  in  the  main  a  just  one.  She  has  done 
somewhat  indeed  to  provoke  a  sensitive  and  jealous 
mind ;  but  nothing  to  warrant  the  step  which  Aurelian 
is  taking.  And  when  I  counsel  peace,  and  by  conces 
sions  too,  I  do  it  not  because  I  hold  it  right  that  such 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

concessions  should  be  made,  but  because  I  deem  it 
frantic  on  the  part  of  Zenobia  to  encounter  the  combin 
ed  power  of  Rome,  under  such  a  soldier  as  Aurelian. 
My  sympathies  are  accordingly  enlisted  in  behalf  of 
this  people  as  a  people  ;  my  heart  is  closely  bound  to 
both  the  house  of  Gracchus  and  Zenobia ;  and  therefore 
I  cannot  leave  them.  I  shall  not  bear  arms  against 
my  country ;  I  think  I  would  sooner  die ;  but  in  any 
case  of  extremity  I  shall  not  wear  a  sword  in  vain,  if 
by  using  it  I  can  save  the  life  or  honor  of  persons  dear 
to  me.  I  am  firm  in  the  belief,  that  no  such  extremity 
will  ever  present  itself;  but  should  it  come,  I  am  ready 
for  it.  I  cannot  but  hope  that  a  battle,  one  or  more, 
upon  the  outskirts  of  the  empire,  will  satisfy  the  pride 
of  Aurelian,  and  convince  the  Queen,  that  to  contend 
for  empire  with  him,  and  Rome  at  his  back,  is  vain, 
and  that  negotiation  will  therefore  end  what  passion 
has  begun.  I  shall  expect  no  other  issue  than  this. 
Then,  having  done  all  here,  I  shall  return  to  Italy,  if 
the  Queen  relents  not,  to  pass  an  unhappy  life  upon 
the  Tiburtine  farm. 

Preparations  of  every  kind  for  the  approaching  con 
test  are  going  forward  with  activity.  The  camp  of  the 
Queen  is  forming  without  the  walls  upon  a  wide  and 
beautiful  plain,  stretching  towards  the  south.  One 
army  will  be  formed  here  chiefly  consisting  of  cavalry, 
in  which  lies  the  strength  of  the  Queen,  and  another 
in  the  vicinity  of  Antioch,  where  a  junction  will  be 
effected,  and  whence  the  whole  will  move  either  toward 
the  Bosphorus  or  Egypt,  according  to  the  route  which, 
it  shall  be  learned,  Aurelian  intends  to  pursue. 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  73 

During  these  few  days  that  have  elapsed  since  the 
departure  of  the  ambassadors,  the  stir  and  confusion 
incident  to  such  a  time  have  continually  increased.  In 
the  streets,  I  meet  scarce  any  who  are  not  engaged  in 
some  service  connected  with  the  army.  Troops  of 
soldiers  are  forming,  exercising  at  their  arms,  and  pass 
ing  from  the  city  as  they  are  severally  equipped  to  join 
the  camp.  The  shops  of  the  armorers  resound  with  the 
blows  of  an  innumerable  body  of  artisans  manufactur 
ing  or  repairing  those  brilliant  suits  of  steel  for  which 
the  cavalry  of  Zenobia  are  distinguished.  Immense 
repositories  of  all  the  various  weapons  of  our  modern 
warfare,  prepared  by  the  Queen  against  seasons  of 
emergency,  furnish  forth  arms  of  the  most  perfect 
workmanship  and  metal  to  all  who  offer  themselves  for 
the  expedition.  Without  the  walls  in  every  direction, 
the  eye  beholds  clouds  of  dust  raised  by  different  bodies 
of  the  Queen's  forces,  as  they  pour  in  from  their  various 
encampments  to  one  central  point.  Trains  of  sumptuary 
elephants  and  camels,  making  a  part  of  every  legion  as 
it  comes  up,  and  stretching  their  long  lines  from  the 
verge  of  the  plain  to  the  very  walls,  contribute  a  fresh 
beauty  and  interest  to  the  scene. 

Within  the  camp,  whatever  the  tumult  and  confusion 
may  be  without,  every  thing  is  conducted  with  the  most 
admirable  order,  and  with  the  observance  of  a  discipline 
as  exact,  if  not  as  severe,  as  that  of  Vespasian,  or  Au- 
relian  himself.  Here  are  to  be  seen  the  commanders 
of  the  chief  divisions  of  the  army  inspecting  the  arms 
and  equipments  of  each  individual  soldier,  and  not 
with  less  diligence  inquiring  into  the  mettle  and  points 
of  the  horse  he  rides.  Every  horse,  pronounced  in  any 

VOL.    II.  7 


74  ZENOBIA. 

way  defective,  is  rejected  from  the  service  and  another 
procured.  The  Queen's  stable  has  been  exhausted  in 
providing  in  this  manner  substitutes  for  such  as  have 
been  set  aside  as  unworthy. 

Zenobia  herself  is  the  most  active  and  laborious  of 
all.  She  is  in  every  place,  seeing  with  her  own  eyes 
that  every  arrangement  and  provision  ordered  to  be 
made  is  completed,  and  that  in  the  most  perfect  manner. 
All  the  duties  of  a  general  are  performed  by  her,  with 
a  freedom,  a  power,  and  a  boldness,  that  fills  one  with 
astonishment  who  is  acquainted  with  those  opposite 
qualities  which  render  her,  as  a  woman,  the  most  lovely 
and  fascinating  of  her  sex.  She  is  seen  sometimes 
driving  rapidly  through  the  streets  in  an  open  chariot, 
of  the  antique  form  ;  but  more  frequently  on  horseback, 
with  a  small  body  of  attendants,  who  have  quite  enough 
to  do  to  keep  pace  with  her,  so  as  to  catch  from  her  the 
orders  which  she  rapidly  issues,  and  then  execute  them 
in  every  part  of  the  camp  and  city.  She  inspires  all 
who  behold  her  with  her  own  spirit.  In  every  soldier 
and  leader  you  behold  something  of  the  same  alertness 
and  impetuosity  of  movement  which  are  so  remarkable 
in  her.  She  is  the  universal  model ;  and  the  confidence 
in  the  resources  of  her  genius  is  universal  and  bound 
less.  *  Let  our  courage  and  conduct,'  they  say,  '  be 
only  in  some  good  proportion  to  our  Queen's,  and  we 
may  defy  Rome  and  the  world.'  As  the  idea  of  naught 
but  conquest  ever  crosses  their  minds,  the  animation — 
even  gayety  that  prevails  in  the  camp  and  throughout 
the  ranks  is  scarcely  to  be  believed,  as  it  is,  I  doubt 
not,  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  war.  Were  she  a 
goddess,  and  omnipotent,  the  trust  in  her  could  not  be 
more  unwavering. 


ZENOBIA.  75 

I  have  just  encountered  Calpurnius  returning  from 
the  palace  of  the  Queen,  whither  he  has  been  to  offer 
his  services  during  the  war,  in  any  capacity  in  which 
it  might  please  her  to  employ  him. 

*  What  was  your  reception  ? '  said  I. 

'  Such  as  Fausta  had  assured  me  of.  She  gives  me 
a  hearty  welcome  to  her  camp,  and  assigns  me  a  legion 
of  horse.  And,  in  addition,  one  more  charge  dearer 
and  yet  more  anxious  a  thousand-fold.' 

*  May  I  know  it?'  said  I,  but  readily  surmising  the 
nature  of  it. 

'  It  is,'  he  replied  with  visible  emotion,  '  Fausta 
herself.' 

*  It  is  fixed  then  that  she  accompanies  the  Queen  ?  ' 

*  She  entreats,  and  the  Queen  consents.' 

*  Would  that  she  could  be  turned  from  this  purpose, 
but  I  suppose  the  united  power  of  the  East  could  not 
do  it.     To  be  near  Zenobia,  and  if  evil  should  befall 
her  to  share  it,  or  to  throw  herself  as  a  shield  between 
the  Queen  and  death,  is  what  she  pants  for  more  than 
for  renown,  though  it  should  be  double  that  of  Semi- 
ramis.' 

*  Lucius,  have  you  urged  every  reason,  and  used  all 
the  power  you  possess  over  her,  to  dissuade  her  ? ' 

'  I  have  done  all  I  have  dared  to  do.  The  decisions 
of  some  minds,  you  know,  with  the  motives  which  sway 
them,  we  too  much  revere  to  oppose  to  them  our  own. 
Girl  though  Fausta  be,  yet  when  I  see  by  the  lofty 
expression  of  her  countenance,  her  firm  and  steadfast 
eye,  that  she  has  taken  her  part,  I  have  no  assurance 
sufficient  to  question  the  rectitude  of  her  determination, 


76  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

or  essay  to  change  it.  I  have  more  faith  in  her  than 
in  myself.' 

'  Yet  it  must  never  be,'  said  my  brother  with  earnest 
ness  ;  '  she  could  never  support  the  fatigues  of  such  a 
campaign,  and  it  must  not  be  permitted  that  she  should 
encounter  the  dangers  and  horrors  of  actual  combat. 
I  have  learned  that  at  the  palace  which,  while  it  has 
dismissed  the  most  painful  apprehensions  of  one  sort, 
has  filled  me  with  others  more  tolerable,  but  yet  intol 
erable.  How,  Lucius,  has  it  happened  that  your 
heart,  soft  in  most  of  its  parts,  on  one  side  has  been 
adamant  ? ' 

'  The  way  of  the  heart,'  I  said,  *  like  the  way  of 
Providence,  is  mysterious.  I  know  not.  Perhaps  it 
was  that  I  knew  .her  longer  in  Rome  and  more  closely 
than  you,  and  the  sentiment  always  uppermost  toward 
her  has  been  that  of  a  brother's  love.  Hers  toward  me 
has  never  been  other  than  the  free,  unrestrained  affec 
tion  of  a  sister.  .  But  you  have  not  seen  the  Princess  ? ' 

*  I  have  not.' 

*  That  will  complete  the  explanation.     The  Queen 
rejects  me ;   but  I  do  not  despair.     But  to  return  to 
Fausta.      As  no  force  could  withhold    her  from  the 
army,  I  thank  the  gods  that  in  you  she  will  find  a 
companion  and  defender,  and  that  to  you  the  Queen 
has  committed  her.     Fail  her  not,  Calpurnius,  in  the 
hour  of  need.     You  do  not  know,  for  your  eye  has  but 
taken  in  her  outward  form,  what  a  jewel,  richer  than 
Eastern  monarch  ever  knew,  is  entrusted  to  your  care. 
Keep  it  as  you  would  your  own  life,  nay,  your  life  will 
be  well  given  for  its  safety.     Forgive  me,  if  in  this  I 
seem  to  charge  you  as  an  elder.     Remember  that  you 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  77 

I  do  not  know,  Fausta  I  do.  Of  you  I  scarcely  know 
more  than  that  you  are  a  Piso,  and  that  the  very  soul 
of  honor  ought  to  dwell  within  you.  The  Queen's 
ready  confidence  in  you,  lays  you  under  obligations 
heavy  as  injunctions  from  the  gods  to  fidelity.  If,  as 
you  journey  on  toward  Antioch,  the  opportunities  of 
the  way  throw  you  together,  and  your  heart  is  won  by 
your  nearer  knowledge  of  her  sweet  qualities  as  well 
as  great  ones,  as  your  eye  has  already  been,  ask  not, 
seek  not,  for  hers,  but  after  a  close  questioning  of  your 
self  whether  you  are  worthy  of  her.  Of  your  life  and 
the  true  lineaments  of  your  soul,  you  know  every  thing, 
she  knows  nothing ;  but  she  is  more  free  and  unsus 
picious  than  a  child,  and  without  looking  further  than 
the  show  and  color  of  honesty  and  truth,  will  surrender 
up  her  heart  where  her  fancy  leads,  trusting  to  find 
according  to  her  faith,  and  to  receive  all  that  she  gives. 
Brother  though  you  be,  I  here  invoke  the  curses  of  the 
gods  upon  your  head,  if  the  faintest  purpose  of  dis 
honest  or  deceptive  dealing  have  place  within  you.' 

'  Your  words/  said  Calpurnius  in  reply — a  whole 
some  and  natural  expression  of  indignation  spreading 
over  his  countenance,  which  inspired  more  confidence 
than  any  thing  he  could  say — '  your  words,  Lucius, 
are  earnest  and  something  sharp.  But  I  bear  them 
without  complaint,  for  the  sake  of  the  cause  in  which 
you  have  used  them.  I  blame  you  not.  It  is  true,  I 
am  a  stranger  both  to  yourself  and  Fausta,  and  it  were 
monstrous  to  ask  confidence  before  time  has  proved  me. 
Leave  it  all  to  time.  My  conduct  under  this  trust 
shall  be  my  trial.  Not  till  our  return  from  Antioch 
will  I  aim  at  more  than  the  happiness  to  be  her  com- 

VOL.    II.  7 


78  Z  E  N  0  B  1  A  , 

panion  and  guard.  The  noble  Otho  will  be  near  us, 
to  whom  you  may  commit  us  both.' 

'  Brother,'  I  rejoined,  '  I  doubt  you  not;  but  where 
our  treasure  is  great,  we  are  tormented  by  imaginary 
fears,  and  we  guard  it  by  a  thousand  superfluous  cares. 
What  I  have  said  has  implied  the  existence  of  doubts 
and  apprehensions,  but  in  sober  truth  they  were  forced 
into  existence.  My  nature  from  the  first  has  been  full 
of  trust  in  you ;  but  this  very  promptness  to  confide, 
my  anxious  fears  converted  to  a  fault,  and  urged  sus 
picion  as  a  duty.  Your  countenance  and  your  words 
have  now  inspired  me  with  an  assurance,  not,  I  am 
certain,  to  be  ever  shaken,  in  your  virtues.  It  shall  be 
my  joy  to  impart  the  same  to  Gracchus.  Fausta  shall 
be  left  free  to  the  workings  of  her  own  mind  and  heart.' 

I  should  not  have  been  justified,  it  seems  to  me,  in 
saying  less  than  this,  though  I  said  it  with  apprehen 
sions,  many  and  grave,  of  a  breach  between  us,  which 
perhaps  time  might  never  heal.  It  has  ended  in  a  deep 
and  settled  conviction  that  the  character  of  Calpurnius 
is  what  it  at  first  appears  to  be.  Persian  duplicity  has 
made  no  lodgment  within  him,  of  that  I  am  sure.  And 
where  you  feel  sure  of  sincerity,  almost  any  other  fault 
may  be  borne. 

The  army  has  taken  up  its  march,  and  the  city  is 
deprived  of  its  best  and  bravest  spirits — Zenobia  and 
Fausta,  those  kindred  souls,  are  gone.  How  desolate 
is  this  vast  palace  !  The  loss  of  Gracchus  and  Fausta 
seems  the  loss  of  all.  A  hundred  attendant  slaves 
leave  it  still  empty. 

A  period  of  the  most  active  preparation  has  been 


ZENOBIA.  79 

closed  to-day,  by  the  departure  of  as  well  appointed  an 
army  as  ever  issued  from  the  Praetorian  camps.  It  was 
a  spectacle  as  beautiful  as  my  eyes  ever  beheld — and 
as  sad.  Let  me  set  before  you  the  events  of  the  day, 

As  I  descended  to  the  apartment  where  we  take 
together  our  morning  meal,  and  which  we  were  now 
for  the  last  time  to  partake  in  each  other's  company,  I 
found  Fausta  already  there,  and  surveying  with  spark 
ling  eyes  and  a  flushed  cheek  a  suit  of  the  most  brilliant 
armor,  which  having  been  made  by  the  Queen's  work 
men,  and  by  her  order,  had  just  now  been  brought  and 
delivered  to  her. 

1 1  asked  the  honor,'  said  the  person  with  whom  she 
was  conversing,  '  to  bring  it  myself,  who  have  made  it 
with  the  same  care  as  the  Queen's,  of  the  same  mate 
rials,  and  after  the  same  fashion.  So  it  was  her  order 
to  do.  It  will  set,  lady,  believe  me,  as  easy  as  a  riding 
dress,  though  it  be  all  of  the  most  impenetrable  steel. 
The  polish  too  is  such,  that  neither  arrow  nor  javelin 
need  be  feared,  they  can  but  touch  and  glance.  Her 
cules  could  not  indent  this  surface.  Let  me  reveal  to 
you  diverse  secret  and  perfect  springs  and  clasps,  the 
use  of  which  you  should  be  well  acquainted  with.  Yet 
it  differs  not  so  much  from  that  in  which  you  have 
performed  your  exercises,  but  you  will  readily  com 
prehend  the  manner  of  its  adjustment.' 

He  then  went  through  with  his  demonstrations,  and 
departed. 

*  This  is  beautiful  indeed ! '  I  said,  as  I  surveyed  and 
handled  parts  of  the  armor ;  '  the  eye  can  hardly  bear 
it  when  the  rays  of  the  sun  fall  upon  it.  But  I  wish 
it  was  fairly  back  again  in  the  shop  of  the  armorer.' 


80  Z  £  N  0  B  I  A  . 

'  That  would  be,'  said  Fausta,  *  only  to  condemn  me 
to  an  older  and  worse  one  ;  and  if  you  should  wish  that 
away  too,  it  would  be  only  to  send  me  into  the  ranks 
defenceless.  Surely  that  you  would  not  do  ? ' 

*  The  gods  forbid !    I  only  mean  that  I  would  rather 
these  walls,  Fausta,  should   be   your  defence.     You 
were  not  made,  whatever  you  may  think,  to  brave  the 
dangers  of  the  desert  and  the  horrors  of  a  war.     Do 
you  remember  at  the  amphitheatre  you  hid  your  eyes 
from  the  cruel  sights  of  the  arena  ?     I  doubt  not  your 
courage ;  but  it  is  not  after  your  heart.' 

*  From  the  useless  barbarities  of  the  circus  I  might 
indeed  turn  away  my  eyes,  and  yet  I  think  with  per 
fect  consistency  strike  my  lance  into  the  heart  of  a  man 
who  came  against  my  country  or  my  Queen,  nor  even 
blench.     But  do  not  suppose  that  it  is  with  any  light 
or  childish  joy  that  I  resolve  to  follow  in  the  steps  of 
Zenobia  to  the  field  of  slaughter.     I  would  far  rather 
sit  here  in  the  midst  of  security  and  peace,  making 
mimic   war   on   my   embroidery,  or  tuning  my  voice 
and  harp,  with  Gracchus  and  you  to  listen  and  applaud. 
But  there  is  that  within  me  that  forbids  my  stay.     I 
am  urged  from  within  by  a  voice  which  seems  as  the 
voice  of  a  god,  to  do  according  to  my  strength,  for 
what  may  be  the  last  struggle  of  our  country  against 
the  encroachments  and  ambition  of  Rome.     You  may 
deem  it  little  that  a  woman  can  do  ? ' 

'  I  confess  I  am  of  opinion  that  many  a  substitute 
could  do  Palmyra  a  better  service  than  even  the  arm  of 
Fausta.  A  woman  may  do  much  and  bravely,  but  a 
man  may  do  more.' 

1  Therein,  Lucius,  am  I  persuaded  you  err.     If  it 


ZENOBIA.  81 

were  only  that,  in  the  language  of  Zabdas,  I  added  so 
many  pounds  weight  of  bone  and  flesh,  by  adding 
myself  to  the  Queen's  troops,  I  would  stay  at  home. 
There  are  heavier  arms  than  mine,  for  mine  are  slight, 
and  sturdier  limbs,  for  mine  in  spite  of  the  sports  of  the 
field  are  still  a  woman's.  But  you  know  nothing  of 
Palmyra  if  you  know  not  this,  that  her  victories  have 
been  won,  not  by  the  arm,  but  by  the  presence  of 
Zenobia ;  to  be  led  to  the  onset  by  a  woman,  and  that 
woman  Zenobia — it  is  this  that  has  infused  a  spirit  and 
an  enthusiasm  into  our  soldiery  that  has  rendered  them 
irresistible.  Were  it  a  thousand  against  ten  thousand, 
not  a  native  Palmyrene  would  shrink  from  the  trial, 
with  Zenobia  at  their  head.  I  am  not  Zenobia,  Lucius, 
but  what  she  can  do  for  an  army,  I  can  do  for  a  legion. 
Mark  the  sensation,  when  this  morning  Zenobia  pre 
sents  herself  to  the  army,  and  even  when  Fausta  wheels 
into  the  ranks,  and  acknowledge  that  I  have  uttered  a 
truth.' 

'  There  must  be  truth  in  what  you  say,  for  were  I  in 
your  train  I  can  feel  how  far  I  should  follow  you,  and 
when  forsake  you.  But  what  you  say  only  fills  me 
with  new  apprehensions,  and  renders  me  the  more 
anxious  to  detain  you.  What  but  certain  death  awaits 
you  if  you  are  to  lead  the  way  ? ' 

'  And  why  should  I  not  die,  as  well  as  another  ? 
And  is  it  of  more  consequence  that  Fausta,  the  daughter 
of  Gracchus,  should  die  upon  a  bed  of  down,  and  be 
neath  silken  canopies,  than  that  the  common  soldiei 
should,  who  falls  at  her  side  ?  How  could  I  die  better 
than  at  the  head  of  a  legion,  whom,  as  I  fell,  I  saw 


82  ZE  NOBI  A  . 

sweeping  on  like  a  tempest  to  emulate  and  revenge  my 
death?' 

*  But  Gracchus — has  he  another  Fausta,  or  another 
child?' 

Her  eyes  were  bent  to  the  ground,  and  for  a  few 
moments  she  was  buried  in  thought.  They  were  filled 
with  tears  as  she  raised  them  and  said, 

'  You  may  well  suppose,  Lucius,  having  witnessed, 
as  you  have,  what  the  love  is  which  I  bear  Gracchus, 
and  how  his  life  is  bound  up  in  mine,  that  this  has 
been  my  heaviest  thought.  But  it  has  not  prevailed 
with  me  to  change  my  purpose,  and  ought  not  to  do  so. 
Could  I  look  into  futurity,  and  know  that  while  I  fell 
upon  the  plains  of  Antioch,  or  on  the  sands  of  the 
desert,  he  returned  to  these  walls  to  wear  out,  childless 
and  in  solitude,  the  remnant  of  his  days,  my  weakness 
I  believe  would  yield,  and  I  should  prefer  my  parent 
to  my  country.  But  the  future  is  all  dark.  And  it 
may  as  well  be,  that  either  we  shall  both  fall,  or  both 
return ;  or  that  he  may  fall  and  I  survive.  It  is  un 
worthy  of  me,  is  it  not  then,  to  consider  too  curiously 
such  chances  ?  The  only  thing  certain  and  of  certain 
advantage  is  this — I  can  do  my  country,  as  I  deem  it, 
a  signal  service  by  joining  her  forces  in  this  hour  of 
peril.  To  this  I  cleave,  and  leave  the  rest  to  the  dis 
posal  of  the  gods.  But  come,  urge  me  no  more,  Lucius ; 
my  mind  is  finally  resolved,  and  it  but  serves  to  darken 
the  remaining  hours.  See,  Gracchus  and  Calpurnius 
are  come — let  us  to  the  tables.' 

This  last  meal  was  eaten  in  silence,  save  the  few 
required  words  of  courtesy. 

Soon  as  it  was  over,  Fausta,  springing  from  her  seat, 


ZE  N  0  BI  A.  83 

disappeared,  hastening  to  her  apartments.  She  re 
turned  in  a  few  moments,  her  dress  changed  and  pre 
pared  for  her  armor. 

«  Now,  Lucius,'  she  exclaimed,  '  your  hour  of  duty 
has  come,  which  is  to  fit  upon  me  this  queenly  apparel. 
Show  your  dexterity,  and  prove  that  you  too  have  seen 
the  wars,  by  the  grace  with  which  you  shall  do  your 
service.' 

*  These  pieces  differ  not  greatly,'  I  said,  *  from  those 
which  I  have  worn  in  Gaul  and  Germany,  and  were 
they  to  be  fastened  on  my  own  limbs,  or  a  comrade's, 
the  task  were  an  easy  one.  I  fear  lest  I  may  use  too 
rough  a  hand  in  binding  on  this  heavy  iron.' 

'  0,  never  fear — there,  that  is  well.  The  Queen's 
armorer  has  said  truly ;  this  is  easy  as  a  robe  of  silk. 
Now  these  clasps — are  they  not  well  made  ?  will  they 
not  catch?' 

'  The  clasps  are  perfect,  Fausta,  but  my  eye  is  dim. 
Here — clasp  them  yourself;'  and  I  turned  away. 

'  Lucius,  Lucius,  are  you  a  Roman,  with  eyes  so 
melting?  Julia  were  a  better  hand-maid.  But  one 
thing  remains,  and  that  must  be  done  by  no  other  hand 
than  yours — crown  me  now  with  this  helmet.' 

I  took  it  from  her  and  placed  it  upon  her  head,  say 
ing,  as  I  did  it,  « The  gods  shield  you  from  danger, 
dear  Fausta,  and  when  you  have  either  triumphed  or 
suffered  defeat,  return  you  again  to  this  happy  roof! 
Now  for  my  services  allow  me  this  reward' — and  for 
the  first  time  since  she  was  a  girl  I  kissed  her  forehead. 

She  was  now  a  beautiful  vision  to  behold  as  ever 
lighted  upon  the  earth.  Her  armor  revealed  with  ex 
actness  the  perfection  of  her  form,  and  to  her  uncom- 


84-  ZENOBIA. 

mon  beauty  added  its  own,  being  of  the  most  brilliant 
steel,  and  frequently  studded  with  jewels  of  dazzling 
lustre.  Her  sex  was  revealed  only  by  her  hair,  which, 
parting  over  her  forehead,  fell  towards  either  eye,  and 
then  was  drawn  up  and  buried  in  her  helmet.  The 
ease  with  which  she  moved  showed  how  well  she  had 
accustomed  herself,  by  frequent  exercises,  to  the  cum 
brous  load  she  bore.  I  could  hardly  believe,  as  she 
paced  the  apartment,  issuing  her  final  orders  to  her 
slaves  and  attendants  who  pressed  around,  that  I  was 
looking  upon  a  woman  reared  in  all  the  luxury  of  the 
East.  Much  as  I  had  been  accustomed  to  the  sight  of 
Zenobia,  performing  the  part  of  an  emperor,  I  found  it 
difficult  to  persuade  myself,  that  when  I  looked  upon 
Fausta,  changing  so  completely  her  sex,  it  was  any 
thing  more  than  an  illusion. 

Gracchus  and  Calpurnius  now  joined  us,  each,  like 
Fausta,  arrayed  in  the  armor  of  the  Queen's  cavalry. 

'  Fausta,'  said  Gracchus  hastily,  *  the  hour  is  come 
that  we  were  at  the  camp  ;  our  horses  wait  us  in  the 
court-yard — let  us  mount.  Farewell,  Lucius  Piso,'  con 
tinued  he,  as  we  moved  toward  the  rear  of  the  palace ; 
*  would  you  were  to  make  one  of  our  company ;  but  as 
that  cannot  be,  I  bequeath  to  you  my  place,  my  honors, 
and  my  house.  Be  ready  to  receive  us  with  large 
hospitality  and  a  philosophical  composure,  when  we 
return  loaded  with  the  laurels  of  victory  and  the  spoils 
of  your  countrymen.  It  is  fortunate,  that  as  we  lose 
you,  we  have  Calpurnius,  who  seems  of  the  true  warrior 
breed.  Never,  Lucius,  has  my  eye  lighted  upon  a  no 
bler  pair  than  this.  Observe  them.  The  Queen,  care 
ful  of  our  Fausta,  has  given  her  in  special  charge  to 


ZENOBIA.  85 

your  brother.  I  thank  her.  By  his  greater  activity 
and  my  more  prudent  counsel,  I  trust  to  bring  her 
again  to  Palmyra  with  a  fame  not  less  than  Zenobia's. 

1 1  can  spare  the  fame,'  I  replied,  '  so  I  see  her  once 
more  in  Palmyra,  herself  unharmed  and  her  country 
at  peace.' 

'  Palmyra  would  no  longer  be  itself  without  her,' 
rejoined  the  father. 

We  were  now  in  the  court-yard,  where  we  found  the 
horses  fully  caparisoned,  awaiting  their  riders.  Faus- 
ta's  was  her  favorite  Arab,  of  a  jet  black  color  and  of  a 
fierce  and  fiery  temper,  hardly  to  be  managed  by  the 
Saracen,  whose  sole  office  it  was  to  attend  upon  him  ; 
while  in  the  hands  of  Fausta,  though  still  spirited 
almost  to  wildness,  he  was  yet  docile  and  obedient. 
Soon  as  she  was  mounted,  although  before  it  had  been 
difficult  to  hold  him,  he  became  quiet  and  calm. 

'  See  the  power  of  woman,'  said  Gracchus;  '  were 
Antiochus  here,  he  would  look  upon  this  as  but  another 
proof  that  the  gods  are  abandoning  Palmyra  to  the 
sway  of  women.' 

'  It  is,'  said  Fausta,  *  simply  the  power  of  gentleness. 
My  Saracen  operates  through  fear,  and  I  through  love. 
My  hand  laid  softly  upon  his  neck  gains  more  a  thou 
sand  fold  than  the  lash  laid  hardly  upon  his  back.' 

Mounting  my  horse,  which  Milo  stood  holding  for 
me,  we  then  sallied  out  of  the  court-yard  gate  toward 
the  camp. 

The  city  itself  was  all  pouring  forth  upon  the  plains 

in  its  vicinity.     The  crowds  choked  the  streets  as  they 

passed  out,  so  that  our  progress  was  slow.     Arriving 

t  length,  we  turned  toward  the  pavilion  of  the  Queen, 

VOL.    II.  8 


86  2E  NO  BI  A  . 

pitched  over  against  the  centre  of  the  army.  There 
we  stood,  joined  by  others,  awaiting  her  arrival ;  for  she 
had  not  yet  left  the  palace.  We  had  not  stood  long, 
before  the  braying  of  trumpets  and  other  warlike  instru 
ments  announced  her  approach.  We  turned,  and  look 
ing  toward  the  gate  of  the  city,  through  which  we  had 
but  now  passed,  saw  Zenobia,  having  on  either  side 
Longinus  and  Zabdas,  and  preceded  and  followed  by  a 
select  troop  of  horse,  advancing  at  her  usual  speed 
toward  the  pavilion.  She  was  mounted  upon  her  far- 
famed  white  Numidian,  for  power  an  elephant,  for 
endurance  a  dromedary,  for  fleetness  a  very  Nicoean, 
and  who  had  been  her  companion  in  all  the  battles  by 
which  she  had  gained  her  renown  and  her  empire. 

Calpurnius  was  beside  himself :  he  had  not  before 
seen  her  when  assuming  all  her  state.  'Did  eye  ever 
look  upon  aught  so  like  a  celestial  apparition  ?  It  is  a 
descent  from  other  regions  ;  I  can  swear  't  is  no  mortal 
— still  less  a  woman.  Fausta,  this  puts  to  shame  your 
eulogies,  swollen  as  I  termed  them.' 

I  did  not  wonder  at  his  amazement,  for  I  myself 
shared  it,  though  I  had  seen  her  so  often.  The  object 
that  approached  us  truly  seemed  rather  a  moving  blaze 
of  light  than  an  armed  woman,  which  the  eye  and  the 
reason  declared  it  to  be,  with  such  gorgeous  magnifi 
cence  was  she  arrayed.  The  whole  art  of  the  armorer 
had  been  exhausted  in  her  appointments.  The  capari 
son  of  her  steed,  sheathed  with  burnished  gold,  and 
thick  studded  with  precious  stones  of  every  various  hue, 
reflected  an  almost  intolerable  splendor  as  the  rays  of 
a  hot  morning  sun  fell  upon  it.  She  too  herself,  being 
clothed  in  armor  of  polished  steel,  whose  own  fiery 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  87 

brightness  was  doubled  by  the  diamonds — that  was  the 
only  jewel  she  wore — sown  with  profusion  all  over  its 
more  prominent  parts,  could  be  gazed  upon  scarcely 
with  more  ease  than  the  sun  himself,  whose  beams 
were  given  back  from  it  with  undiminished  glory.  In 
her  right  hand  she  held  the  long  slender  lance  of  the 
cavalry ;  over  her  shoulders  hung  a  quiver  well  loaded 
with  arrows,  while  at  her  side  depended  a  heavy  Da 
mascus  blade.  Her  head  was  surmounted  by  a  steel 
helmet,  which  left  her  face  wholly  uncovered,  and 
showed  her  forehead,  like  Fausta's  shaded  by  the  dark 
hair,  which,  while  it  was  the  only  circumstance  that 
revealed  the  woman,  added  to  the  effect  of  a  counte 
nance  unequalled  for  a  marvellous  union  of  feminine 
beauty,  queenly  dignity,  and  masculine  power.  Some 
times  it  has  been  her  usage,  upon  such  occasions,  to 
appear  with  arms  bare  and  gloved  hands  ;  they  were 
now  cased,  like  the  rest  of  the  body,  in  plates  of  steel. 

'  Calpurnius,'  said  Fausta,  '  saw  you  ever  in  Persia 
such  horsemanship  ?  See  now,  as  she  draws  nearer, 
with  what  grace  and  power  she  moves.  Blame  you 
the  enthusiasm  of  this  people  ? ' 

'  I  more  than  share  it,'  he  replied ;  « it  is  reward 
enough  for  my  long  captivity,  at  last  to  follow  such  a 
leader.  Many  a  time,  as  Zenobia  has  in  years  past 
visited  my  dreams,  and  I  almost  fancied  myself  in  her 
train,  I  little  thought  that  the  happiness  I  now  experi 
ence  was  to  become  a  reality.  But  hark !  how  the 
shout  of  welcome  goes  up  from  this  innumerable  host.' 

No  sooner  was  the  Queen  arrived  where  we  stood, 
'and  the  whole  extended  lines  became  aware  of  her 
presence,  than  the  air  was  filled  with  the  clang  of 


OO  ZENOBIA. 

trumpets  and  the  enthusiastic  cries  of  the  soldiery,  who 
waved  aloft  their  arms  and  made  a  thousand  expressive 
signs  of  most  joyful  greeting.  When  this  hearty  salu 
tation,  commencing  at  the  centre,  had  died  away  along 
the  wings,  stretching  one  way  to  the  walls  of  the  city, 
and  the  other  toward  the  desert,  Zenobia  rode  up  near 
er  the  lines,  and  being  there  surrounded  by  the  ranks 
which  were  in  front,  and  by  a  crowd  of  the  great  offi 
cers  of  the  army,  spoke  to  them  in  accordance  with  her 
custom.  Stretching  out  her  hand,  as  if  she  would  ask 
the  attention  of  the  multitude,  a  deep  silence  ensued, 
and  in  a  voice  clear  and  strong,  she  thus  addressed 
them : 

*  Men  and  soldiers  of  Palmyra  !  Is  this  the  last  time 
that  you  are  to  gather  together  in  this  glittering  array, 
and  go  forth  as  lords  of  the  whole  East  ?  Conquerors 
in  so  many  wars,  are  you  now  about  to  make  an  offer 
ing  of  yourselves  and  your  homes  to  the  emperor  of 
Rome  ?  Am  I,  who  have  twice  led  you  to  the  gates  of 
Ctesiphon,  now  to  be  your  leader  to  the  footstool  of 
Aurelian  ?  Are  you  thinking  of  any  thing  but  victory  ? 
Is  there  one  in  all  these  ranks  who  doubts  whether  the 
same  fate  that  once  befel  Probus  shall  now  befal  Au 
relian  ?  If  there  be,  let  him  stand  forth  !  Let  him  go 
and  intrench  himself  within  the  walls  of  Palmyra.  We 
want  him  not.  (The  soldiers  brandished  and  clashed 
their  arms.)  Victory,  soldiers,  belongs  to  those  who  be 
lieve.  Believe  that  you  can  do  so,  and  we  will  return 
with  a  Roman  army  captive  at  our  chariot  wheels. 
Who  should  put  trust  in  themselves,  if  not  the  men  and 
soldiers  of  Palmyra  ?  Whose  memory  is  long  enough 
to  reach  backward  to  a  defeat  ?  What  was  the  reign  of 


Z  £  N  0  B  I  A  .  89 

Odenatus  but  an  unbroken  triumph  ?  Are  you  now, 
for  the  first  time,  to  fly  or  fall  before  an  enemy  ?  And 
who  the  enemy  ?  Forget  it  not — Rome  !  and  Aureli- 
un  !  the  greatest  empire  and  the  greatest  soldier  of  the 
world.  Never  before  was  so  large  a  prize  within  your 
reach.  Never  before  fought  you  on  a  stage  with  the 
whole  world  for  spectators.  Forget  not  too  that  de 
feat  will  be  not  only  defeat,  but  ruin !  The  loss  of  a 
battle  will  be  not  only  so  many  dead  and  wounded,  but 
the  loss  of  empire!  For  Rome  resolves  upon  our  sub 
jugation.  We  must  conquer  or  we  must  perish,  and 
forever  lose  our  city,  our  throne,  and  our  name.  Are 
you  ready  to  write  yourselves  subjects  and  slaves  of 
Rome ! — citizens  of  a  Roman  province  ?  and  forfeit 
the  proud  name  of  Palmyrene  ? "  (Loud  and  indignant 
cries  rose  from  the  surrounding  ranks.)  "  If  not,  you 
have  only  to  remember  the  plains  of  Egypt  and  of  Per 
sia  ;  and  the  spirit  that  burned  within  your  bosoms 
then  will  save  you  now,  and  bring  you  back  to  these 
walls,  your  brows  bound  about  with  the  garlands  of 
victory.  Soldiers  !  strike  your  tents  !  and  away  to  the 
desert ! ' 

Shouts  long  and  loud,  mingled  with  the  clash  of 
arms,  followed  these  few  words  of  the  Queen.  Her 
own  name  was  heard  above  all.  "  Long  live  the  great 
Zenobia ! "  ran  along  the  ranks  from  the  centre  to  the 
extremes,  and  from  the  extremes  back  again  to  the 
centre.  It  seemed  as  if,  when  her  name  had  once 
been  uttered,  they  could  not  cease — through  the  ope 
ration  of  some  charm — to  repeat  it  again  and  again, 
coupled  too  with  a  thousand  phrases  of  loyalty  and 
affection. 


90  ZE  N  0  BI  A  . 

The  Queen,  as  she  ended,  turned  toward  the  Pavil 
ion,  where  dismounting  she  entered,  and  together  with 
her,  her  counsellors,  the  great  officers  of  the  army  and 
empire,  her  family,  and  friends.  Here  was  passed  an 
hour  in  the  interchange  of  the  words  and  signs  of 
affection  between  those  who  were  about  to  depart  upon 
this  uncertain  enterprise,  and  those  who  were  to  re 
main.  The  Queen  would  fain  inspire  all  with  her 
light,  bold,  and  confident  spirit,  but  it  could  not  prevail 
to  banish  the  fears  and  sorrows  that  filled  many  hearts. 
Julia's  eyes  never  moved  from  her  mother's  face,  or 
only  to  rest  on  Fausta's,  whose  hand  she  held  clasped 
in  her  own.  Zenobia  often  turned  towards  her  with  a 
look,  in  which  the  melting  tenderness  of  the  mother 
contended  but  too  successfully  with  the  calm  dignity 
of  the  Queen,  and  bore  testimony  to  the  strong  affection 
working  at  the  heart.  She  would  then,  saying  a  word 
or  two,  turn  away  again,  and  mingle  with  those  who 
made  less  demand  upon  her  sympathies.  Livia  was 
there  too,  and  the  flaxen-haired  Faustula — Livia,  gay 
even,  through  excess  of  life — Faustula  sad  and  almost 
terrified  at  the  scene,  and  clinging  to  Julia  as  to  her 
haven  of  safety.  The  Caesars  were  also  there,  insig 
nificant  as  always,  but  the  youngest,  Vabalathus, 
armed  for  the  war ;  the  others  are  not  to  be  drawn 
away  from  the  luxuries  and  pleasures  of  the  city. 
Antiochus,  sullen  and  silent,  was  of  the  number  too, 
stalking  with  folded  arms  apart  from  the  company,  or 
else  arm  in  arm  with  one  of  his  own  color,  and  seem 
ing  to  be  there  rather  because  he  feared  to  be  absent, 
than  because  he  derived  any  pleasure  from  the  scene. 
It  was  with  an  effort,  and  with  reluctance,  that  he 


ZENOBIA  .  91 

came  forward  from  his  hiding  places,  and  with  supreme 
awkwardness,  yet  with  an  air  of  haughtiness  and  pride, 
paid  his  court  to  the  Queen. 

As  he  retreated  from  his  audience,  the  Queen's  eye 
sought  me,  and  approaching  me  she  said,  '  Piso,  I  am 
not  prone  to  suspicion,  and  fear  is  a  stranger  to  my 
heart :  but  I  am  told  to  distrust  Antiochus.  I  have 
been  warned  to  observe  him.  I  cannot  now  do  it,  for 
I  depart  while  he  remains  in  Palmyra.  It  has  been 
thrown  out  that  he  has  designs  of  a  treasonable  nature, 
and  that  the  Princess  Julia  is  connected  with  them. 
He  is  an  object  too  contemptible  to  deserve  my  thought, 
and  I  have  not  been  willing  so  much  as  to  name  the 
circumstance  to  any  of  the  council.  He  may  prove  an 
amusing  and  interesting  subject  for  your  speculation 
while  we  are  gone.' 

This  was  said  in  a  partly  serious,  partly  trifling 
vein.  I  answered  her,  saying,  « that  I  could  not  but 
fear  lest  there  might  be  more  foundation  for  the  warn 
ings  that  had  been  given  her  than  she  was  disposed  to 
allow.  He  was  indeed  insignificant  and  contemptible 
in  character,  but  he  was  malignant  and  restless.  Many 
an  insect,  otherwise  every  way  despicable,  is  yet  armed 
with  a  deadly  sting.  A  swarm  may  conquer  even  the 
monarch  of  the  forest.  Antiochus,  mean  as  he  is,  may 
yet  inflict  a  secret  and  fatal  wound ;  and  he  is  not 
alone  ;  there  are  those  who  affect  him.  I  believe  you 
have  imposed  no  task  which  as  a  Roman  I  may  not 
innocently  perform.  Rest  assured  that  if  watchfulness 
of  mine  may  avert  the  shadow  of  an  evil  from  your 
head,  it  shall  not  be  wanting.  I  would  that  you  your- 


92  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

self  could  look  more  seriously  upon  this  information, 
but  I  perceive  you  to  be  utterly  incredulous.' 

1  It  is  so  indeed,'  she  replied.  *  It  were  better  for  me 
perhaps  were  it  otherwise.  Had  I  heeded  the  rumors 
which  reached  me  of  the  base  Maeonius,  Odenatus  had 
now  perhaps  been  alive  and  at  my  side.  But  it  is 
against  the  grain  of  my  nature.  I  can  neither  doubt 
nor  fear.' 

Sounds  from  without  now  indicated  that  the  camp 
was  broken  up,  and  the  army  in  motion.  The  moment 
of  separation  had  come.  The  Queen  hastily  approach 
ed  her  daughters,  and  impressing  a  mother's  kisses 
upon  them  turned  quickly  away,  and  springing  upon 
her  horse  was  soon  lost  to  sight  as  she  made  her  way 
through  the  ranks,  to  assume  her  place  at  their  head. 
Fausta  lingered  long  in  the  embraces  of  Julia,  who,  to 
part  with  her,  seemed  as  if  about  to  lose  as  much  more 
as  she  had  just  lost  in  Zenobia. 

'  These  our  friends  being  now  gone,  let  us,'  said  the 
Princess,  '  who  remain,  ascend  together  the  walls  of 
the  city,  and  from  the  towers  of  the  gate  observe  ths 
progress  of  the  army  so  long  as  it  shall  remain  in 
sight.' 

Saying  this,  we  returned  to  the  city,  and  from  the 
highest  part  of  the  walls  watched  the  departing  glories 
of  the  most  magnificent  military  array  I  had  ever 
beheld.  It  was  long  after  noon  before  the  last  of  the 
train  of  loaded  elephants  sank  below  the  horizon.  I 
have  seen  larger  armies  upon  the  Danube,  and  in  Gaul : 
but  never  have  I  seen  one  that  in  all  its  appointments 
presented  so  imposing  a  spectacle.  This  was  partly 
owing  to  the  greater  proportion  of  cavalry,  and  to  the 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  93 

admixture  of  the  long  lines  of  elephants  with  their 
burdens,  their  towers  and  litters ;  but  more  perhaps  to 
the  perfectness  with  which  each  individual,  be  he  on 
horse  or  foot,  be  he  servant,  slave  or  master,  is  furnished, 
respecting  both  arms,  armor,  and  apparel.  Julia  beheld 
it,  if  with  sorrow,  with  pride  also. 

'  Between  an  army  like  this,'  she  said,  '  so  appointed, 
and  so  led  and  inflamed,  and  another  like  that  of  Rome 
coming  up  under  a  leader  like  Aurelian,  how  sharp  and 
deadly  must  be  the  encounter !  What  a  multitude  of 
this  and  that  living  host,  now  glorious  in  the  blaze  of 
arms,  and  burning  with  desires  of  conquest,  will  fall 
and  perish,  pierced  by  weapons,  or  crushed  by  elephants, 
nor  ever  hear  the  shout  of  victory  !  A  horrid  death, 
winding  up  a  feverish  dream.  And  of  that  number 
how  likely  to  be  Fausta  and  Zenobia ! ' 

'  Why,  sister,'  said  Faustula,  whom  I  held,  and  in 
pointing  out  to  whom  the  most  remarkable  objects  of 
the  strange  scene  I  had  been  occupied,  '  why  does  our 
mother  love  to  go  away  and  kill  the  Romans  ?  I  am 
sure  she  would  not  like  to  kill  you,' — looking  up  in 
my  face, — '  and  are  not  you  a  Roman  ?  She  will  not 
let  me  hurt  even  a  little  fly  or  ant,  but  tells  me  they 
feel  as  much  to  be  killed,  as  if  Sapor  were  to  put  his 
great  foot  on  me  and  tread  me  into  the  sand.' 

*  But  the  Romans,'  said  Julia,  '  are  coming  to  take 
away  our  city  from  us,  and  perhaps  do  us  a  great  deal 
of  harm,  and  must  they  not  be  hindered  ? ' 

'  But,'  replied  Faustula,  *  would  they  do  it  if  Zenobia 
asked  them  not  to  do  it  ?  Did  you  ever  know  any 
body  who  could  help  doing  as  she  asked  them  ?  I 
wish  Aurelian  could  only  have  come  here  and  heard 


94  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

her  speak,  and  seen  her  smile,  and  I  know  he  would 
not  have  wanted  to  hurt  her.  If  I  were  a  Queen,  I 
would  never  fight.' 

*  I  do  not  believe  you  would,'  said  I ;  '  you  do  not 
seem  as  if  you  could  hurt  any  body  or  any  thing.' 

'  And  now  is  not  Zenobia  better  than  I  ?  I  think 
perhaps  she  is  only  going  to  frighten  the  Romans,  and 
then  coming  home  again.' 

1 0  no — do  not  think  so,'  said  Livia;  'has  not  Zenobia 
fought  a  great  many  battles  before  this  ?  If  she  did 
not  fight  battles,  we  should  have  no  city  to  live  in.' 

'  If  it  is  so  good  to  fight  battles,  why  does  she  prevent 
me  from  quarrelling,  or  even  speaking  unkindly  ?  I 
think  she  ought  to  teach  me  to  fight.  I  do  not  believe 
that  men  or  women  ought  to  fight  any  more  than  chil 
dren  ;  and  I  dare  say  if  they  first  saw  and  talked  with 
one  another  before  they  fought,  as  I  am  told  to  do,  they 
never  would  do  it.  I  find  that  if  I  talk  and  tell  what 
I  think,  then  I  do  not  want  to  quarrel. — See !  is  that 
Zenobia  ?  How  bright  she  shines  !  I  wish  she  would 
come  back.' 

*  Wait  a  little  while,  and  she  will  come  again,'  said 
Livia,  *  and  bring  Aurelian  perhaps  with  her.     Should 
you  not  like  to  see  Aurelian  ? ' 

*  No,  I  am  sure  I  should  not.     I  do  not  want  to  see 
any  one  that  does  not  love  Zenobia.' 

So  the  little  child  ran  on,  often  uttering  truths,  too 
obviously  truths  for  mankind  to  be  governed  by  them, 
yet  containing  the  best  philosophy  of  life.  Truth  and 
happiness  are  both  within  easy  reach.  We  miss  them 
because  they  are  so  near.  We  look  over  them,  and 
grasp  at  distant  and  more  imposing  objects,  wrapped 
in  the  false  charms  which  distance  lends. 


ZENOBIA.  95 

During  the  absence  of  the  Queen  and  Fausta,  we 
have,  in  agreement  with  the  promise  we  made,  repeated 
our  visit  more  than  once  to  the  retreat  of  the  jChristian 
Hermit;  from  whom  I  have  drawn  almost  all  that  re 
mains  to  be  known,  concerning  the  truths  of  his  religion. 
Both  Julia  and  Livia  have  been  my  companions.  Of 
the  conversations  at  these  visits,  I  shall  hope  at  some 
future  time  to  furnish  you  with  full  accounts. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Farewell. 


96  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 


LETTER    XIII. 

THESE  few  days  having  passed  in  the  manner  I  have 
described,  our  impatience  has  been  relieved  by  news 
from  the  West.  We  learn  that  Aurelian,  having  ap 
pointed  Illyricum  as  the  central  point  for  assembling 
his  forces,  has,  marching  thence  through  Thrace,  and 
giving  battle  on  the  way  to  the  Goths,  at  length  reached 
Byzantium,  whence  crossing  the  Bosphorus,  it  is  his 
purpose  to  subdue  the  Asiatic  provinces,  and  afterwards 
advance  toward  Palmyra.  The  army  of  the  Queen, 
judging  by  the  last  accounts  received  by  her  messen 
gers,  must  now  have  reached  the  neighborhood  of 
Antioch,  and  there  already  perhaps  have  encountered 
the  forces  of  the  Emperor. 

The  citizens  begin  at  length  to  put  on  the  appearance 
of  those  who  feel  that  something  of  value  is  at  stake. 
The  Portico  is  forsaken,  or  frequented  only  by  such  as 
hope  to  hear  news  by  going  there.  The  streets  are 
become  silent  and  solitary.  I  myself  partake  of  the 
general  gloom.  I  am  often  at  the  palace  and  at  the 
house  of  Longinus.  The  dwelling,  or  rather  should  I 
not  term  it  the  spacious  palace  of  the  minister,  affords 
me  delightful  hours  of  relaxation  and  instruction,  as  I 
sit  and  converse  with  its  accomplished  lord,  or  wander 
among  the  compartments  of  his  vast  library,  or  feast 
the  senses  and  imagination  upon  the  choice  specimens 
of  sculpture  and  painting,  both  ancient  and  modern, 
which  adorn  the  walls,  the  ceilings,  the  stair-ways,  and, 
indeed,  every  part  of  the  extensive  interior.  Here  I 


ZENOBIA.  97 

succeed  in  forgetting  the  world  and  all  its  useless 
troubles,  and  am  fairly  transported  into  those  regions 
of  the  fancy,  where  the  airs  are  always  soft  and  the 
skies  serene,  where  want  is  unknown,  and  solicitations 
to  vice  come  not,  where  men  are  just  and  true  and  kind, 
and  women  the  goddesses  we  make  them  in  our  dreams, 
and  the  whole  of  existence  is  a  calm  summer's  day, 
without  storm  of  the  inward  or  outward  world.  And 
when  upon  these  delicious  moments  the  philosopher 
himself  breaks  in,  the  dream  is  not  dissolved,  but  stands 
rather  converted  to  an  absolute  reality,  for  it  then  shines 
with  the  actual  presence  of  a  god.  It  is  with  unwil 
lingness  that  I  acknowledge  my  real  state,  and  consent 
to  return  to  this  living  world  of  anxieties  and  appre 
hensions  in  which  I  now  dwell. 

I  am  just  returned  from  the  palace  and  the  Princess 
Julia.  While  there  seated  in  conversation  with  her, 
Longinus,  aud  Livia,  a  courier  was  suddenly  announced 
from  Zenobia.  He  entered,  wo  stamped  upon  his  fea 
tures,  and  delivered  letters  into  the  hands  of  Longinus. 
Alas !  Alas  !  for  Palmyra.  The  intelligence  is  of 
disaster  and  defeat !  The  countenance  of  the  Greek 
grew  pale  as  he  read.  He  placed  the  despatches  in 
silence  in  the  hands  of  Julia,  having  finished  them,  and 
hastily  withdrew. 

The  sum  of  the  news  is  this.  A  battle  has  been 
fought  before  Antioch,  and  the  forces  of  the  Queen 
completely  routed.  It  appears  that  upon  the  approach 
of  Aurelian,  the  several  provinces  of  Asia  Minor,  which 
by  negotiation  and  conquest  had  by  Zenobia  been  con 
nected  with  her  kingdom,  immediately  returned  to  their 

VOL.   II.  9 


98  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

former  allegiance.  The  cities  opened  their  gates  and 
admitted  the  armies  of  the  conqueror.  Tyana  alone 
of  all  the  Queen's  dominions  in  that  quarter  opposed 
the  progress  of  the  Emperor,  and  this  strong-hold  was 
soon  by  treachery  delivered  into  his  power.  Thence 
he  pressed  on  without  pause  to  Antioch,  where  he  found 
the  Queen  awaiting  him.  A  battle  immediately  ensued. 
At  first,  the  Queen's  forces  obtained  decided  advan 
tages,  and  victory  seemed  ready  to  declare  for  her  as 
always  before,  when  the  gods  decreed  otherwise,  and 
the  day  was  lost — but  lost,  in  the  indignant  language 
of  the  Queen,  '  not  in  fair  and  honorable  fight,  but 
through  the  baseness  of  a  stratagem  rather  to  have  been 
expected  from  a  Carthaginian  than  the  great  Aurelian.' 
1  Our  troops,'  she  writes,  '  had  driven  the  enemy  from 
his  ground  at  every  point.  Notwithstanding  the  pres 
ence  of  Aurelian,  and  the  prodigies  of  valor  by  which 
he  distinguished  himself  anew,  and  animated  his  sol 
diers,  our  cavalry,  led  by  the  incomparable  Zabdas, 
bore  him  and  his  legions  backwards,  till  apparently 
discomfited  by  the  violence  of  the  onset,  the  Roman 
horse  gave  way  and  fled  in  all  directions.  The  shout 
of  victory  arose  from  our  ranks,  which  now  broke,  and 
in  the  disorder  of  a  flushed  and  conquering  army,  scat 
tered  in  hot  pursuit  of  the  flying  foe.  Now,  when  too 
late,  we  saw  the  treachery  of  the  enemy.  Our  horse, 
heavy-armed  as  you  know,  were  led  on  by  the  retreat 
ing  Romans  into  a  broken  and  marshy  ground,  where 
their  movements  were  in  every  way  impeded,  and  thou 
sands  were  suddenly  fixed  immovable  in  the  deep  morass. 
At  this  moment,  the  enemy,  by  preconcerted  signals, 
with  inconceivable  rapidity,  being  light-armed,  formed ; 


ZENOBIA.  99 

and,  returning  upon  our  now  scattered  forces,  made 
horrible  slaughter  of  all  who  had  pushed  farthest  from 
the  main  body  of  the  army.  Dismay  seized  our  sol 
diers,  the  panic  spread,  increased  by  the  belief  that  a 
fresh  army  had  come  up  and  was  entering  the  field, 
and  our  whole  duty  centered  in  forming  and  covering 
our  retreat.  This,  chiefly  through  the  conduct  of  Cal- 
purnius  Piso,  was  safely  effected ;  the  Romans  being 
kept  at  bay  while  we  drew  together,  and  then  under 
cover  of  the  approaching  night  fell  back  to  a  new  and 
strong  position. 

'  I  attempt  not,  Longinus,  to  make  that  better  which 
is  bad.  I  reveal  the  whole  truth,  not  softening  nor 
withholding  a  single  feature  of  it,  that  your  mind  may 
be  possessed  of  the  exact  state  of  our  affairs,  and  know 
how  to  form  its  judgments.  Make  that  which  I  write 
public,  to  the  extent  and  in  the  manner  that  shall  seem 
best  to  you. 

*  After  mature  deliberation,  we  have  determined  to 
retreat  further  yet,  and  take  up  our  position  under  the 
walls  of  Emesa.  Here,  I  trust  in  the  gods,  we  shall 
redeem  that  which  we  have  lost.' 

In  a  letter  to  Julia  the  Queen  says,  *  Fausta  has 
escaped  the  dangers  of  the  battle ;  selfishly  perhaps 
dividing  her  from  Piso,  she  has  shared  my  tent  and  my 
fortunes,  and  has  proved  herself  worthy  of  every  confi 
dence  that  has  been  reposed  in  her.  She  is  my  insepa 
rable  companion  in  the  tent,  in  the  field,  and  on  the  road, 
by  night  and  by  day.  Give  not  way  to  despondency, 
dear  Julia.  Fortune,  which  has  so  long  smiled  upon 
me,  is  not  now  about  to  forsake  me.  There  is  no  day 
so  long  and  bright  that  clouds  do  not  sail  by  and  cast 


100  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

their  little  shadows.  But  the  sun  is  behind  them.  Our 
army  is  still  great  and  in  good  heart.  The  soldiers 
receive  me,  whenever  I  appear,  with  their  customary 
acclamations.  Fausta  shares  this  enthusiasm.  Wait 
without  anxiety  or  fear  for  news  from  Emesa.' 

When  we  had  perused  and  re-perused  the  despatches 
of  the  Queen,  and  were  brooding  in  no  little  despondency 
over  their  contents,  Longinus  re-entering  said  to  me, 

*  And  what,  Piso,  may  I  ask,  is  your  judgment  of  the 
course  which  Aurelian  will  now  pursue  ?  I  see  not 
that  I  can  offend  in  asking,  or  you  in  answering.  I 
have  heretofore  .inclined  to  the  belief  that  Rome,  having 
atoned  her  injured  honor  by  a  battle,  would  then  prefer 
to  convert  Palmyra  into  a  useful  ally,  by  the  proposal 
of  terms  which  she  could  accept ;  terms  which  would 
leave  her  an  independent  existence  as  formerly,  in 
friendly  alliance  with,  though  in  no  sense  subject  to 
Eome.  But  neither  preceding  the  battle  at  Antioch, 
nor  since,  does  it  appear  that  terms  have  been  so  much 
as  proposed  or  discussed.  I  can  hardly  believe  that 
Aurelian,  even  if  victory  should  continue  to  sit  upon  his 
eagles,  would  desire  to  drive  the  Queen  to  extremities, 
and  convert  this  whole  people  into  a  united  and  infuri 
ated  enemy.  If  he  be  willing  to  do  this,  he  little  under 
stands  the  best  interests  of  Rome,  and  proves  only  this, 
that  though  he  may  be  a  good  soldier,  he  is  a  bad  sove 
reign,  and  really  betrays  his  country  while  achieving 
the  most  brilliant  victories.' 

'  I  am  obliged  to  say,'  I  replied,  '  that  I  have  wavered 
in  my  judgment.  Sometimes,  when  I  have  thought  of 
policy,  of  the  past  services  of  Palmyra,  and  of  Persia,  I 
have  deemed  it  hardly  possible  that  Aurelian  should 


ZEN  OBI  A.  101 

have  had  any  other  purpose  in  this  expedition  than  to 
negotiate  with  Zenobia,  under  the  advantages  of  an 
armed  force  ;  that  at  the  most  and  worst,  a  single  battle 
would  suffice,  and  the  differences  which  exist  be  then 
easily  adjusted.  But  then,  when  again  I  have  thought 
of  the  character  of  Aurelian,  I  have  doubted  these  con 
clusions,  and  believed  that  conquest  alone  will  satisfy 
him ;  and  that  he  will  never  turn  back  till  he  can  call 
Palmyra  a  Roman  province.  From  what  has  now 
transpired  at  Antioch,  arid  especially  from  what  has  not 
transpired,  I  am  strengthened  in  this  last  opinion.  One 
or  the  other  must  fall.  I  believe  it  has  come  to  this.' 

*  One  or  the  other  may  fall  at  Emesa,'  said  Livia, 
'but  no  power  can  ever  force  the  walls  of  Palmyra.' 

'  I  am  ready  to  believe  with  you,  Princess,'  said 
Longinus,  *  but  I  trust  never  to  see  a  Roman  army 
before  them.  Yet  if  your  last  judgment  of  Aurelian 
be  the  true  one,  Piso,  it  may  happen.  We  are  not  a 
power  to  pour  forth  the  hordes  of  Rome  or  Germany. 
We  have  valor,  but  not  numbers.' 

'  Ought  not,'  said  Julia,  '  every  provision  to  be  made, 
even  though  there  be  but  the  remotest  possibility  of  the 
city  sustaining  a  siege  ? ' 

*  The  most  fruitful  imagination,'  replied  Longinus, 
'could    hardly  suggest    a  single  addition  to  what  is 
already  done,  to  render  Palmyra  impregnable.     And 
long  before  the  food  now  within  the  walls  could  be 
exhausted,  any  army,  save  one  of  Arabs  of  the  desert, 
lying  before  them,  must  itself  perish.    But  these  things 
the  council  and  senate  will  maturely  weigh.' 

Longinus  departed. 

At  the  same  moment  that  he  left  the  apartment,  that 

VOL.    II  9* 


102  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

Indian  slave  whom  I  have  often  seen  sitting  at  the  feet 
of  the  Queen  entered  where  we  were,  and  addressing 
a  few  words  to  the  Princess  Julia  again  retreated.  I 
could  not  but  remark  again,  what  I  had  remarked  be 
fore,  her  graceful  beauty,  and  especially  the  symmetry 
of  her  form  and  elasticity  of  her  step.  There  was  now 
also  an  expression  in  the  countenance  which,  notwith 
standing  its  dark  beauty,  I  liked  not,  as  I  had  often 
before  liked  it  not,  when  I  had  seen  her  in  the  presence 
of  Zenobia. 

*  Princess,'  said  I,  '  is  the  slave  who  has  just  depart 
ed  sincere  in  her  attachment  to  Zenobia  ? ' 

' 1  cannot  doubt  it,'  she  replied ;  '  at  least  I  have 
observed  nothing  to  cause  me  to  doubt  it.  Thinking 
herself  injured  and  degraded  by  Zenobia,  she  may 
perhaps  feel  toward  her  as  the  captive  feels  toward  the 
conqueror.  But  if  this  be  so,  the  lip  breathes  it  not. 
To  the  Queen  she  is,  as  far  as  the  eye  may  judge, 
fondly  attached,  and  faithful  to  the  trusts  reposed  in 
her.' 

*  But  why,'  I  asked,  '  thinks  she  herself  injured  and 
degraded?  is  she  not  what  she  seems  to  be,  a  slave  ?' 

'  She  is  a  slave  by  the  chances  of  fortune  and  war, 
not  by  descent  or  purchase.  She  was  of  the  household 
of  Sapor,  when  his  tents,  wives,  and  slaves  fell  into  the 
hands  of  Odenatus,  and  by  him,  as  we  learned,  had  been 
taken  in  his  wars  with  an  Indian  nation.  In  her  own 
country  she  was  a  princess,  and  were  she  now  there, 
were  queen.  Zenobia's  pride  is  gratified  by  using  her 
for  the  purposes  she  does,  nor  has  it  availed  to  inter 
cede  in  her  behalf.  Yet  has  it  always  seemed  as  if  a 
strong  attachment  drew  the  fair  slave  to  our  mother, 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  103 

and  sure  I  am  that  Zenobia  greatly  esteems  her,  and, 
save  in  one  respect,  maintains  and  holds  her  rather  as 
an  equal  than  inferior.  We  all  love  her.  Others 
beside  yourself  have  questioned  her  truth,  but  we  have 
heeded  them  not.  Upon  what,  may  I  ask,  have  you 
founded  a  doubt  of  her  sincerity  ?' 

'  I  can  scarcely  say,'  I  rejoined,  *  that  I  have  ground 
to  doubt  her  sincerity.  Indeed,  I  know  nothing  of  her 
but  what  you  have  now  rehearsed,  except  that,  a  few 
days  since,  as  I  retired  from  the  palace,  I  observed  her 
near  the  eastern  gate  in  earnest  conversation  with 
Antiochus.  Soon  as  her  eye  caught  me,  although  at 
a  great  distance,  she  hastily  withdrew  into  the  palace, 
while  Antiochus  turned  toward  the  neighboring  street.' 

Julia  smiled.  '  Ah,'  said  she,  *  our  cousin  Antiochus, 
were  he  to  lose  all  hope  of  me,  would  hasten  to  throw 
himself  at  the  feet  of  the  beautiful  Sindarina.  When 
at  the  palace,  his  eyes  can  hardly  be  drawn  from  her 
face.  I  have  been  told  he  exalts  her  above  her  great 
mistress.  Were  Antiochus  king,  I  can  hardly  doubt 
that  Sindarina  were  queen.  His  visit  to  the  palace 
must  have  been  to  her  alone.  Livia,  have  you  received 
him  since  the  departure  of  Zenobia?' 

Her  sister  had  not  seen  him.  I  said  no  more.  But 
never  have  I  read  aright  the  human  countenance,  if  in 
her  there  be  not  hidden  designs  of  evil.  I  knew  not 
before  this  interview  her  history.  This  supplies  a 
motive  for  a  treacherous  turn,  if  by  it  her  freedom  or 
her  fortune  might  be  achieved.  I  have  mentioned  my 
suspicions  to  Longinus,  but  he  sees  nothing  in  them. 

The  intelligence  thus  received  from  Antioch  has 


104  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

!  effectually  sobered  the  giddy  citizens  of  Palmyra. 
They  are  now  of  opinion  that  war  really  exists,  and 
that  they  are  a  party  concerned.  The  merchants,  who 
are  the  princes  of  the  place,  perceiving  their  traffic  to 
decline  or  cease,  begin  to  interest  themselves  in  the 
affairs  of  the  state.  So  long  as  wealth  flowed  in  as 
ever,  and  the  traders  from  India  and  Persia  saw  no 
obstruction  in  the  state  of  things  to  a  safe  transaction 
of  their  various  businesses  and  transportation  of  their 
valuable  commodities,  the  merchants  left  the  state  to 
take  care  of  itself,  and  whatever  opinions  they  held, 
expressed  them  only  in  their  own  circles,  thinking  but 
of  accumulation  by  day,  and  of  ostentatious  expenditure 
by  night.  I  have  often  heard,  that  their  general  voice, 
had  it  been  raised,  would  have  been  hostile  to  the  pol 
icy  that  has  prevailed.  But  it  was  not  raised ;  and 
now,  when  too  late,  and  these  mercenary  and  selfish 
beings  are  driven  to  some  action  by  the  loss  of  their 
accustomed  gains,  a  large  and  violent  party  is  forming 
among  them,  who  loudly  condemn  the  conduct  of  the 
Queen  and  her  ministers,  and  advocate  immediate 
submission  to  whatever  terms  Aurelian  may  impose. 
This  party  however,  powerful  though  it  maybe  through 
wealth,  is  weak  in  numbers.  The  people  are  opposed 
to  them,  and  go  enthusiastically  with  the  Queen,  and 
do  not  scruple  to  exult  in  the  distresses  of  the  merchants. 
Their  present  impotence  is  but  a  just  retribution  upon 
them  for  their  criminal  apathy  during  the  early  stages 
of  the  difficulty.  Then  had  they  taken  a  part  as  they 
ought  to  have  done  in  the  public  deliberations,  the  rup 
ture  which  has  ensued  might,  it  is  quite  likely,  have  been 
prevented.  Their  voice  would  have  been  a  loud  and 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  105 

strong  one,  and  would  have  been  heard.  They  deserve 
to  lose  their  liberties,  who  will  not  spare  time  from 
selfish  pursuits  to  guard  them.  Where  a  government  is 
popular,  even  to  no  greater  extent  than  this,  it  behooves 
every  individual,  if  he  values  the  power  delegated  to 
him  and  would  retain  it,  to  use  it,  otherwise  it  is  by 
degrees  and  insensibly  lost ;  and  once  absorbed  into 
the  hands  of  the  few,  it  is  not  easily,  if  at  all,  to  be 
recovered. 

Nothing  can  exceed  the  activity  displayed  on  all 
hands  in  every  preparation  which  the  emergency  de 
mands.  New  levies  of  men  are  making,  and  a  camp 
again  forming  to  reinforce  the  Queen,  at  Emesa,  or  in 
its  neighborhood,  if  she  should  not  be  compelled  to 
retire  upon  Palmyra.  In  the  mean  time,  we  wait  with 
beating  hearts  for  the  next  arrival  of  couriers. 

After  an  anxious  suspense  of  several  days  all  my 
worst  apprehensions  are  realized.  Messengers  have 
arrived,  announcing  the  defeat  of  Zenobia  before  the 
walls  of  Emesa,  and  with  them  fugitives  from  the 
conquered  army  are  pouring  in.  Every  hour  now  do 
we  expect  the  approach  of  the  Queen,  with  the  remnant 
of  her  forces.  Our  intelligence  is  in  the  hand  of  Zenobia 
herself.  She  has  written  thus  to  her  minister. 

'  Septimia  Zenobia  to  Dionysius  Longinus.  I  am 
again  defeated.  Our  cavalry  were  at  first  victorious, 
as  before  at  Antioch.  The  Roman  horse  were  routed. 
But  the  infantry  of  Aurelian,  in  number  greatly  superior 
to  ours,  falling  upon  our  ranks  when  deprived  of  the 
support  of  the  cavalry,  obtained  an  easy  victory ;  while 
their  horse,  rallying  and  increased  by  reinforcements 


106  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

from  Antioch,  drove  us  in  turn  at  all  points,  penetrating 
even  to  our  camp,  and  completed  the  disaster  of  the 
day.  I  have  now  no  power  with  which  to  cope  with 
Aurelian.  It  remains  but  to  retreat  upon  Palmyra, 
there  placing  our  reliance  upon  the  strength  of  our 
walls,  and  upon  our  Armenian,  Saracen,  and  Persian 
allies.  I  do  not  despair,  although  the  favor  of  the  gods 
seems  withdrawn.  Farewell.' 

The  city  is  in  the  utmost  consternation.  All  power 
seems  paralysed.  The  citizens  stand  together  in  knots 
at  the  corners  of  the  streets,  like  persons  struck  dumb, 
and  without  command  of  either  their  bodies  or  their 
minds.  The  first  feeling  was,  and  it  was  freely  ex 
pressed,  *  To  contend  further  is  hopeless.  The  army 
is  destroyed ;  another  cannot  now  be  recruited  ;  and  if 
it  could,  before  it  were  effected,  Aurelian  would  be  at 
the  gates  with  his  countless  legions,  and  the  city  ne 
cessarily  surrender.  We  must  now  make  the  best 
terms  we  can,  and  receive  passively  conditions  which 
we  can  no  longer  oppose.' 

But  soon  other  sentiments  took  the  place  of  these, 
and  being  urged  by  those  who  entertained  them,  with 
zeal,  they  have  prevailed. 

'Why,'  they  have  urged,  *  should  we  yield  before 
that  becomes  the  only  alternative  ?  At  present  we  are 
secure  within  the  walls  of  our  city,  which  may  well 
defy  all  the  power  of  a  besieging  army.  Those  most 
skilled  in  such  matters,  and  who  have  visited  the  places 
in  the  world  deemed  most  impregnable,  assert  that  the 
defences  of  Palmyra  are  perfect,  and  surpassed  by 
none ;  and  that  any  army,  whether  a  Roman  or  any 
other,  must  perish  before  it  would  be  possible  either  to 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  107 

force  our  gates  or  reduce  us  by  hunger.  Besides,  what 
could  we  expect  by  submitting  to  the  conqueror,  but 
national  extinction  ?  Our  city  would  be  pillaged ;  our 
principal  citizens  murdered  ;  perhaps  a  general  slaugh 
ter  made  of  the  inhabitants,  without  regard  to  age  or 
sex.  The  mercies  of  Rome  have  ever  been  cruel ;  and 
Aurelian  we  know  to  be  famed  for  the  severity  of  his 
temper.  No  commander  of  modern  times  has  instituted 
so  terrible  a  discipline  in  his  army,  and  Rome  itself 
has  felt  the  might  of  his  iron  hand  :  it  is  always  on  his 
sword.  What  can  strangers,  foreigners,  enemies,  and 
rebels,  as  he  regards  us,  expect  ?  And  are  the  people 
of  Palmyra  ready  to  abandon  their  Queen  ?  to  whom 
we  owe  all  this  great  prosperity,  this  wide  renown,  this 
extended  empire  ?  But  for  Zenobia  we  were  now 
what  we  were  so  many  ages,  a  petty  trading  village,  a 
community  of  money-makers,  hucksters  and  barterers, 
without  arts,  without  science,  without  fame,  destitute 
of  all  that  adorns  and  elevates  a  people.  Zenobia  has 
raised  us  to  empire  ;  it  is  Zenobia  who  has  made  us 
the  conquerors  of  Persia,  and  the  rival  of  Rome.  Shame 
on  those  who  will  desert  her !  Shame  on  those  who 
will  distrust  a  genius  that  has  hitherto  shone  with 
greater  lustre  in  proportion  to  the  difficulties  that  have 
opposed  it !  Who  can  doubt  that  by  lending  her  all  our 
energies  and  means,  she4  will  yet  triumph  ?  Shame 
and  death  to  the  enemies  of  the  Queen  and  the  State  ! ' 
Sentiments  like  these  are  now  every  where  heard, 
and  the  courage  and  enthusiasm  of  the  people  are 
rising  again.  Those  who  are  for  war  and  resistance 
are  always  the  popular  party.  There  is  an  instinctive 
love  of  liberty  and  power,  and  a  horror  at  the  thought 


108  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

of  losing  them,  that  come  to  the  aid  of  the  weak,  and 
often  cause  them  to  resist,  under  circumstances  abso 
lutely  desperate.  Palmyra  is  not  weak,  but  to  one  who 
contemplates  both  parties,  and  compares  their  relative 
strength,  it  is  little  short  of  madness  to  hope  to  hold 
out  with  ultimate  success  against  the  power  of  Rome. 
But  such  is  the  determination  of  the  great  body  of  the 
people.  And  the  Queen,  when  she  shall  approach 
with  her  broken  and  diminished,  and  defeated  army, 
will  meet  the  welcome  of  a  conqueror.  Never  before 
in  the  history  of  the  world,  was  there  so  true-hearted 
a  devotion  of  a  whole  people  to  the  glory,  interests,  and 
happiness  of  One — and  never  was  such  devotion  so 
deserved. 

The  Princess  Julia  possesses  herself  like  one  armed 
for  such  adversities,  not  by  nature,  but  by  reflection  and 
philosophy.  She  was  designed  for  scenes  of  calmness 
and  peace  :  but  she  has  made  herself  equal  to  times  of 
difficulty,  tumult  and  danger.  She  shrinks  not  from 
the  duties  which  her  station  now  imposes  upon  her ; 
but  seems  like  one  who  possesses  resolution  enough  to 
reign  with  the  vigor  and  power  of  Zenobia.  Her  two 
brothers,  who  have  remained  in  the  city,  Herennianus 
and  Timolaus,  leave  all  affairs  of  state  to  her  and  the 
council ;  they  preferring  the  base  pleasures  of  sensu 
ality,  in  which  they  wallow  day  and  night  in  company 
with  Antiochus  and  his  crew.  If  a  deep  depression  is 
sometimes  seen  to  rest  upon  her  spirit,  it  comes  rather 
when  she  thinks  of  her  mother,  than  of  herself.  She 
experiences  already,  through  her  lively  sympathies,  the 
grief  that  will  rage  in  the  soul  of  Zenobia,  should 
fortune  deprive  her  of  her  crown. 


ZENOBIA.  109 

*  Zenobia,'  she  has  said  to  me,  '  Zenobia  cannot  de 
scend  from  a  throne,  without  suffering  such  as  common 
souls  cannot  conceive.  A  goddess  driven  from  heaven 
and  the  company  of  the  gods  could  not  endure  more. 
To  possess  and  to  exercise  power  is  to  her  heaven  ;  to 
be  despoiled  of  it,  Tartarus  and  death.  She  was  bora 
for  a  throne,  though  not  on  one ;  and  how  she  graces 
it,  you  and  the  world  have  seen.  She  will  display 
fortitude  under  adversity  and  defeat,  I  am  sure,  and 
to  the  common  eye,  the  same  soul,  vigorous  with  all 
its  energies,  will  appear  to  preside  over  her.  But  the 
prospect  or  expectation  of  a  fall  from  her  high  place 
will  rack  with  torments  such  as  no  mortal  can  hope  to 
assuage.  To  witness  her  grief,  without  the  power  to 
relieve — I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  it ! ' 

In  Livia  there  is  more  of  the  mother.  She  is  proud, 
imperious,  and  ambitious,  in  a  greater  measure  even 
than  Zenobia.  Young  as  she  is,  she  believes  herself 
of  a  different  nature  from  others  ;  she  born  to  rule, 
others  to  serve.  It  is  not  the  idea  of  her  country  and 
its  renown  that  fills  and  sways  her,  but  of  a  throne  and 
its  attendant  glories.  So  she  could  reign  a  Queen, 
with  a  Queen's  state  and  homage,  it  would  matter  little 
to  her  whether  it  were  in  Persia  or  Palmyra.  Yet 
with  those  who  are  her  equals  is  she  free,  and  even 
sportive,  light  of  heart,  and  overflowing  with  excess  of 
life.  Her  eye  burns  with  the  bright  lustre  of  a  star, 
and  her  step  is  that  of  the  mistress  of  a  world.  She  is, 
not  terrified  at  the  prospect  before  her,  for  her  confident 
and  buoyant  spirit  looks  down  all  opposition,  and  pre 
dicts  a  safe  egress  from  the  surrounding  peril,  and  an 
VOL.  n.  10 


110  ZEN  OBI  A. 

ascent,  through  this  very  calamity  itself,  to  a  position 
more  illustrious  still. 

*  Julia,'  said  she,  on  one  occasion  of  late,  while  I  sat 
a  listener,    '  supposing    that    the  people  of   Palmyra 
should  set  aside   our  renowned  brothers,  and  again 
prefer  a  woman's  sway,  would  not  you  renounce  your 
elder  right  in  favor  of  me  ?     I  do  not  think  you  would 
care  to  be  a  Queen  ? ' 

'  That  is  true,'  replied  Julia,  '  I  should  not  care  to  be 
a  Queen ;  and  yet,  I  believe  I  should  reign,  that  you 
might  not.  Though  I  covet  not  the  exercise  of  power, 
I  believe  I  should  use  it  more  wisely  than  you  would, 
who  do.' 

*  I  am  sure,'  said  Livia,  '  I  feel  within  me  that  very 
superiority  to  others,  which  constitutes  the  royal  char 
acter,  and  would  fit  me  eminently  to  reign.     He  cannot 
be  a  proper  slave  who  has  not  the  soul  of  a  slave. 
Neither  can  he  reign  well  who  has  not  the  soul  of  a 
monarch.     I  am  suited  to  a  throne,  just  as  others  are 
by  the  providence  of  the  gods   suited  to  uphold  the 
throne,  and  be  the  slaves  of  it.' 

'  Were  you  Queen,  Livia,  it  would  be  for  your  own 
sake ;  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  which  as  you  imagine 
accompany  that  state,  and  exercise  over  others  the 
powers  with  which  you  were  clothed,  and  receive  the 
homage  of  dependent  subjects.  Your  own  magnificence 
and  luxurious  state  would  be  your  principal  thought. 
Is  that  being  suited  to  a  throne  ? ' 

'  But,'  said  Livia,  '  I  should  not  be  guilty  of  inten 
tional  wrong  toward  any.  So  long  as  my  people 
obeyed  my  laws  and  supported  my  government,  there 
would  be  no  causes  of  difficulty.  But  surely,  if  there 


ZE  N  OBI A 


111 


were  resistance,  and  any  either  insulted  or  opposed 
my  authority,  it  would  be  a  proper  occasion  for  violent 
measures.  For  there  must  be  some  to  govern  as  well 
as  others  to  obey.  All  cannot  rule.  Government  is 
founded  in  necessity.  Kings  and  queens  are  of  na 
ture's  making.  It  would  be  right  then  to  use  utmost 
severity  toward  such  as  ceased  to  obey,  as  the  slave 
his  master.  How  could  the  master  obtain  the  service 
of  the  slave,  if  there  were  not  reposed  in  him  power  to 
punish  ?  Shall  the  master  of  millions  have  less  ? ' 

*  Dear  Livia,  your  principles  are  suited  only  to  some 
Persian  despotism.     You  very  soberly  imagine,  unless 
you  jest,  that  governments  exist  for  the  sake  of  those 
who  govern — that  kings  and  queens  are  the  objects  for 
which  governments  are  instituted.' 

'  Truly,  it  is  very  much  so.  Otherwise  what  would 
the  king  or  queen  of  an  empire  be  but  a  poor  official, 
maintained  in  a  sort  of  state  by  the  people,  and  paid 
by  them  for  the  discharge  of  a  certain  set  of  duties 
which  must  be  performed  by  some  one ;  but  who  pos 
sesses,  in  fact,  no  will  nor  power  of  his  own  ;  rather  the 
servant  of  the  people  than  their  master  ? ' 

'  I  think,'  replied  Julia,  '  you  have  given  a  very  just 
definition  of  the  imperial  office.  _  A  king,  queen,  or 
emperor,  is  indeed  the  servant  of  the  people.  He  exists 
not  for  his  own  pleasure  or  glory,  but  for  their  good. 
Else  he  is  a  tyrant,  a  despot — not  a  sovereign.' 

*  It  is  then,'   said  Livia,   *  only  a  tyrant  or  a  despot 
that  I  would  consent  to  be.     Not  in  any  bad  meaning 
of  the  terms ;  for  you  know,  Julia,  that  1  could  not  be 
cruel  nor  unjust.     But  unless  I  could  reign,  as  one 
independent  of  my  people,  and  irresponsible  to  them  ; 


112  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

not  in  name  only,  but  in  reality  above  them  ;  receiving 
the  homage  due  to  the  queenly  character  and  office — 
I  would  not  reign  at  all.  To  sit  upon  a  throne,  a  mere 
painted  puppet,  shaken  by  the  breath  of  every  conceited 
or  discontented  citizen,  a  butt  for  every  shaft  to  fly  at, 
a  mere  hireling,  a  slave  in  a  queen's  robe,  the  mouth 
piece  for  others  to  speak  by  and  proclaim  their  laws, 
with  no  will  nor  power  of  my  own — no,  no  !  It  is  not 
such  that  Zenobia  is.' 

'  She  is  more  than  that  indeed,'  replied  Julia ;  '  she 
is  in  some  sense  a  despot ;  her  will  is  sovereign  in 
the  state  ;  she  is  an  absolute  prince  in  fact ;  but  it  is 
through  the  force  of  her  own  character  and  virtues, 
not  by  the  consent  and  expressed  allowance  of  her 
subjects.  Her  genius,  her  goodness,  her  justice,  and 
her  services,  have  united  to  confer  upon  her  this  dan 
gerous  pre-eminence.  But  who  else,  with  power  such 
as  hers,  would  reign  as  she  has  reigned  ?  An  absolute 
will,  guided  by  perfect  wisdom  and  goodness,  consti 
tutes  I  indeed  believe  the  simplest  and  best  form  of 
human  government.  It  is  a  copy  of  that  of  the  uni 
verse,  under  the  providence  of  the  gods.  But  an  ab 
solute  will,  moved  only  or  chiefly  by  the  selfish  love  of 
regal  state  and  homage,  or  by  a  very  defective  wisdom 
and  goodness,  is  on  the  other  hand  the  very  worst  form 
of  human  government.  You  would  make  an  unequal 
led  queen,  Livia,  if  to  act  the  queen  were  all ;  if  you 
were  but  to  sit  and  receive  the  worship  of  the  slaves, 
your  subjects.  As  you  sit  now,  I  can  almost  believe 
you  Queen  of  the  East !  Juno's  air  was  not  more 
imperial,  nor  the  beauty  of  Venus  more  enslaving. 


ZENOBIA.  113 

Piso  will  not  dissent  from  what  I  began  with,  or  now 
end  with.' 

*  I  think  you  have  delivered  a  true  doctrine,'  I  replied  ; 
'but  which  few  who  have  once  tasted  of  power  will 
admit.  Liberty  would  be  in  great  danger  were  Livia 
queen.  Her  subjects  would  be  too  willing  to  forget 
their  rights,  through  a  voluntary  homage  to  her  queen 
ly  character  and  state.  Their  chains  would  however 
be  none  the  less  chains,  that  they  were  voluntarily 
assumed.  That  indeed  is  the  most  dangerous  slavery 
which  men  impose  upon  themselves,  for  it  does  not 
bear  the  name  of  slavery,  but  some  other ;  yet  as  it  is 
real,  the  character  of  the  slave  is  silently  and  uncon 
sciously  formed,  and  then  unconsciously  transmitted.' 

'  I  perceive,'  said  Livia,  '  if  what  you  philosophers 
urge  be  true,  that  I  am  rather  meant  by  nature  for  a 
Persian  or  a  Roman  throne  than  any  other.  I  would 
be  absolute,  though  it  were  over  but  a  village.  A 
divided  and  imperfect  power  I  would  not  accept,  though 
it  were  over  the  world.  But  the  gods  grant  it  long  ere 
any  one  be  called  in  Palmyra  to  fill  the  place  of  Zeno- 
bia!' 

'  Happy  were  it  for  mankind,'  said  Julia,  '  could  she 
live  and  reign  forever.' 

Thus  do  all  differences  cease  and  run  into  harmony 
at  the  name  of  Zenobia. 

Every  hour  do  we  look  for  the  arrival  of  the  army. 

As  I  sit  writing  at  my  open  window,  overlooking 

the  street  and  spacious  courts  of  the  Temple  of  Justice, 

VOL.  n. 


114  Z  E  N  O  B  1  A  . 

I  am  conscious  of  an  unusual  disturbance — the  people 
at  a  distance  are  running  in  one  direction — the  clamor 
approaches — and  now  I  hear  the  cries  of  the  multitude, 
'  The  Queen  !  the  Queen  ! ' 
I  fly  to  the  walls. 

I  resume  my  pen.  The  alarm  was  a  true  one.  Upon 
gaining  the  streets,  I  found  the  populace  all  pouring 
toward  the  Gate  of  the  Desert,  in  which  direction,  it 
was  affirmed,  the  Queen  was  making  her  approach. 
Upon  reaching  it,  and  ascending  one  of  its  lofty  towers, 
I  beheld  from  the  verge  of  the  horizon  to  within  a  mile 
of  the  walls,  the  whole  plain  filled  with  the  scattered 
forces  of  Zenobia,  a  cloud  of  dust  resting  over  the 
whole,  and  marking  out  the  extent  of  ground  they 
covered.  As  the  advanced  detachments  drew  near, 
how  different  a  spectacle  did  they  present  from  that 
bright  morning,  when  glittering  in  steel,  and  full  of  the 
fire  of  expected  victory,  they  proudly  took  their  way 
toward  the  places  from  which  they  now  were  returning, 
a  conquered,  spoiled,  and  dispirited  remnant,  covered 
with  the  dust  of  a  long  march,  and  wearily  dragging 
their  limbs  beneath  the  rays  of  a  burning  sun.  Yet 
was  there  order  and  military  discipline  preserved,  even 
under  circumstances  so  depressing,  and  which  usually 
are  an  excuse  for  their  total  relaxation.  It  was  the 
silent,  dismal  march  of  a  funeral  train,  rather  than  the 
hurried  flight  of  a  routed  and  discomfited  army.  There 
was  the  stiff  and  formal  military  array,  but  the  life  and 
spirit  of  an  elated  and  proud  soldiery  were  gone. 
They  moved  with  method  to  the  sound  of  clanging 
instruments,  and  the  long,  shrill  blast  of  the  trumpet, 


ZE  N  0  B  I  A  .  115 

but  they  moved  as  mourners.  They  seemed  as  if  they 
came  to  bury  their  Queen. 

Yet  the  scene  changed  to  a  brighter  aspect,  as  the 
army  drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  walls,  and  the  city 
throwing  open  her  gates,  the  populace  burst  forth,  and 
with  loud  and  prolonged  shouts,  welcomed  them  home. 
These  shouts  sent  new  life  into  the  hearts  of  the  des 
ponding  ranks,  and  with  brightened  faces  and  a  changed 
air  they  waved  their  arms  and  banners,  and  returned 
shout  for  shout.  As  they  passed  through  the  gates  to 
the  ample  quarters  provided  within  the  walls,  a  thousand 
phrases  of  hearty  greeting  were  showered  down  upon 
them,  from  those  who  lined  the  walls,  the  towers,  and 
the  way-side,  which  seemed,  from  the  effects  produced 
in  those  on  whom  they  fell,  a  more  quickening  restor 
ative  than  could  have  been  any  medicine  or  food  that 
had  ministered  only  to  the  body. 

The  impatience  of  the  multitude  to  behold  and  receive 
the  Queen  was  hardly  to  be  restrained  from  breaking 
forth  in  some  violent  way.  They  were  ready  to  rush 
upon  the  great  avenue,  bearing  aside  the  troops,  that 
they  might  the  sooner  greet  her.  When,  at  length,  the 
centre  of  the  army  approached,  and  the  armed  chariot 
appeared  in  which  Zenobia  sat,  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
people  knew  no  bounds.  They  broke  through  all  re 
straint,  and  with  cries  that  filled  the  heavens,  pressed 
toward  her — the  soldiers  catching  the  frenzy  and  join 
ing  them — and  quickly  detaching  the  horses  from  her 
carriage,  themselves  drew  her  into  the  city  just  as  if 
she  had  returned  victor  with  Aurelian  in  her  train. 
There  was  no  language  of  devotion  and  loyalty  that 
did  not  meet  her  ear,  nor  any  sign  of  affection  that 


116  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

could  be  made  from  any  distance,  from  the  plains,  the 
walls,  the  gates,  the  higher  buildings  of  the  city,  the 
roofs  of  which  were  thronged,  that  did  not  meet  her  eye. 
It  was  a  testimony  of  love  so  spontaneous  and  universal, 
a  demonstration  of  confidence  and  unshaken  attach 
ment  so  hearty  and  sincere,  that  Zenobia  was  more 
than  moved  by  it,  she  was  subdued — and  she  who,  by 
her  people,  had  never  before  been  seen  to  weep,  bent 
her  head  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

With  what  an  agony  of  expectation,  while  this  scene 
was  passing,  did  I  await  the  appearance  of  Fausta,  and 
Gracchus,  and  Calpurnius — if,  indeed,  I  were  destined 
ever  to  see  them  again.  I  waited  long,  and  with  pain, 
but  the  gods  be  praised,  not  in  vain,  nor  to  meet  with 
disappointment  only.  Not  far  in  the  rear  of  Zenobia, 
at  the  head  of  a  squadron  of  cavalry,  rode,  as  my  eye 
distinctly  informed  me,  those  whom  I  sought.  No 
sooner  did  they  in  turn  approach  the  gates,  than  almost 
the  same  welcome  that  had  been  lavished  upon  Zenobia, 
was  repeated  for  Fausta,  Gracchus,  and  Calpurnius. 
The  names  of  Calpurnius  and  Fausta — of  Calpurnius, 
as  he  who  had  saved  the  army  at  Antioch,  of  Fausta 
as  the  intrepid  and  fast  friend  of  the  Queen,  were  es 
pecially  heard  from  a  thousand  lips,  joined  with  every 
title  of  honor.  My  voice  was  not  wanting  in  the  loud 
acclaim.  It  reached  the  ears  of  Fausta,  who,  starting 
and  looking  upward,  caught  my  eye  just  as  she  passed 
beneath  the  arch  of  the  gateway.  I  then  descend 
ed  from  my  tower  of  observation,  and  joined  the  crowds 
who  thronged  the  close  ranks,  as  they  filed  along  the 
streets  of  the  city.  I  pressed  upon  the  steps  of  my 
friends,  never  being  able  to  keep  my  eyes  from  the 


' 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  117 

forms  of  those  I  loved  so  well,  whom  I  had  so  feared 
to  lose,  and  so  rejoiced  to  behold  returned  alive  and 
unhurt. 

All  day  the  army  has  continued  pouring  into  the 
city,  and  beside  the  army  greater  crowds  still  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  suburbs,  who,  knowing  that  before 
another  day  shall  end,  the  Romans  may  encamp  before 
the  walls,  are  scattering  in  all  directions — multitudes 
taking  refuge  in  the  city,  but  greater  numbers  still, 
mounted  upon  elephants,  camels,  dromedaries  and 
horses,  flying  into  the  country  to  the  north.  The 
whole  region  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  seems  in 
commotion,  as  if  society  were  dissolved,  and  breaking 
up  from  its  foundations.  The  noble  and  the  rich, 
whose  means  are  ample,  gather  together  their  valuables, 
and  with  their  children  and  friends  seek  the  nearest 
parts  of  Mesopotamia,  where  they  will  remain  in  safety 
till  the  siege  shall  be  raised.  The  poor,  and  such  as 
cannot  reach  the  Euphrates,  flock  into  the  city,  bringing 
with  them  what  little  of  provisions  or  money  they  may 
possess,  and  are  quartered  upon  the  inhabitants,  or  take 
up  a  temporary  abode  in  the  open  squares,  or  in  the 
courts  and  porticos  of  palaces  and  temples — the  softness 
and  serenity  of  the  climate  rendering  even  so  much  as 
the  shelter  of  a  tent  superfluous.  But  by  this  vast 
influx  the  population  of  the  city  cannot  be  less  than 
doubled,  and  I  should  tremble  for  the  means  of  subsis* 
tence  for  so  large  a  multitude,  did  I  not  know  the  in 
exhaustible  magazines  of  grain,  laid  up  by  the  prudent 
foresight  of  the  Queen,  in  anticipation  of  the  possible 
occurrence  of  the  emergency  which  has  now  arrived. 
A  long  time — longer  than  he  himself  would  be  able  to 


118  ZE  N  O  B  I  A. 

subsist  his  army — must  Aurelian  lie  before  Palmyra 
ere  he  can  hope  to  reduce  it  by  famine.  What  impres 
sion  his  engines  may  be  able  to  make  upon  the  walls, 
remains  to  be  seen.  Periander  pronounces  the  city 
impregnable.  My  own  judgment,  formed  upon  a 
comparison  of  it  with  the  cities  most  famous  in  the 
world  for  the  strength  of  their  defences,  would  agree 
with  his. 

Following  on  in  the  wake  of  the  squadron  to  which 
Fausta  was  attached,  I  wished  to  reach  the  camp  at  the 
same  time  with  herself  and  Gracchus  and  my  brother, 
but  owing  to  the  press  in  the  streets,  arising  from  the 
causes  just  specified,  I  was  soon  separated  from,  and 
lost  sight  of  it.  Desirous  however  to  meet  them,  I 
urged  my  way  along  with  much  labor  till  I  reached  the 
quarter  of  the  city  assigned  to  the  troops,  where  I  found 
the  tents  and  the  open  ground  already  occupied.  I 
sought  in  vain  for  Fausta.  While  I  waited,  hoping 
still  to  see  her,  I  stood  leaning  upon  a  pile  of  shields, 
which  the  soldiers,  throwing  off  their  arms,  had  just 
made,  and  watching  them  as  they  were,  some  disen 
cumbering  themselves  of  their  armor,  others  unclasping 
the  harness  of  their  horses,  others  arranging  their 
weapons  into  regular  forms,  and  others,  having  gone 
through  their  first  tasks,  were  stretching  themselves  at 
rest  beneath  the  shadow  of  their  tents,  or  of  some 
branching  tree.  Near  me  sat  a  soldier,  who,  apparent 
ly  too  fatigued  to  rid  himself  of  his  heavy  armor,  had 
thrown  himself  upon  the  ground,  and  was  just  taking 
off  his  helmet,  and  wiping  the  dust  and  sweat  from  his 
face,  while  a  little  boy,  observing  his  wants,  ran  to  a 
neighboring  fountain,  and  filling  a  vessel  with  water, 


ZEN  OBI  A.  119 

returned  and  held  it  to  him,  saying,  '  Drink,  soldier , 
this  will  make  you  stronger  than  your  armor.' 

'You  little  traitor,'  said  the  soldier,  '  art  not  ashamed 
to  bring  drink  to  me,  who  have  helped  to  betray  the 
city  ?  Beware,  or  a  sharp  sword  will  cut  you  in  two.' 

*  I  thought,'  replied  the  child,  nothing  daunted,  'that 
you  were  a  soldier  of  Palmyra,  who  had  been  to  fight 
the   Romans.     But  whoever  you  may  be,  I  am  sure 
you  need  the  water.' 

*  But,'    rejoined    the    soldier,  swallowing    at  long 
draughts  as  if  it  had  been  nectar,  the  cooling  drink,  '  do 
I  deserve  water,  or  any  of  these  cowards  here,  who  have 
been   beaten  by  the  Romans,  and  so  broken  the  heart 
of  our  good  Queen,  and  possibly  lost  her  her  throne? 
Answer  me  that.' 

'  You  have  done  what  you  could,  I  know,'  replied  the 
boy,  '  because  you  are  a  Palmyrene,  and  who  can  do 
more  ?  I  carry  round  the  streets  of  the  city  in  this  palm- 
leaf  basket,  date  cakes,  which  I  sell  to  those  who  love 
them.  But  does  my  mother  blame  me  because  I  do  not 
always  come  home  with  an  empty  basket?  I  sell  what 
I  can.  Should  I  be  punished  for  doing  what  I  cannot? ' 

'  Get  you  gone,  you  rogue,'  replied  the  soldier;  '  you 
talk  like  a  Christian  boy,  and  they  have  a  new  way 
of  returning  good  for  evil.  But  here,  if  you  have  cakes 
in  your  basket,  give  me  one  and  I  will  give  you  a  penny 
all  the  way  from  Antioch.  See  !  there  is  the  head  of 
Aurelian  on  it.  Take  care  he  don't  eat  you  up — or  at 
least  your  cakes.  But  hark  you,  little  boy,  do  you  see 
yonder  that  old  man  with  a  bald  head,  leaning  against 
his  shield  ?  go  to  him  with  your  cakes.' 

The  boy  ran  off. 


120  2  E  N  O  B  I  A . 

*  Friend,'  said  I,  addressing  him,  '  your  march  has 
not  lost  you  your  spirits;  you  can  jest  yet.' 

1  Truly  I  can.  If  the  power  to  do  that  were  gone, 
then  were  all  lost.  A  good  jest  in  a  time  of  misfortune 
is  food  and  drink.  It  is  strength  to  the  arm,  digestion 
to  the  stomach,  courage  to  the  heart.  It  is  better  than 
wisdom  or  wine.  A  prosperous  man  may  afford  to  be 
melancholy,  but  if  the  miserable  are  so,  they  are,  worse 
than  dead — but  it  is  sure  to  kill  them.  Near  me  I 
had  a  comrade  whose  wit  it  was  alone  that  kept  life  in 
me  upon  the  desert.  All  the  way  from  Emesa,  had  it 
not  been  for  the  tears  of  laughter,  those  of  sorrow  and 
shame  would  have  killed  me.' 

'But  in  the  words  of  the  little  cake  urchin,  you  did 
what  you  could.  The  fates  were  opposed  to  you.' 

1  If  all  had  done  as  much  and  as  well  as  some,  we 
would  have  had  the  fates  in  our  own  keeping.  Had 
it  not  been  for  that  artifice  of  the  Romans  at  Antioch, 
we  had  now  been  rather  in  Rome  than  here,  and  it  was 
a  woman — or  girl  rather,  as  I  am  told — the  daughter 
of  Gracchus,  who  first  detected  the  cheat,  and  strove  to 
save  the  army,  but  it  was  too  late.' 

'  Were  you  near  her  ? ' 

'  Was  I  not  ?  Not  the  great  Zabdas  himself  put 
more  mettle  into  the  troops  than  did  that  fiery  spirit 
and  her  black  horse.  And  beyond  a  doubt,  she  would 
have  perished  through  an  insane  daring,  had  not  the 
Queen  in  time  called  her  from  the  field,  and  afterward 
kept  her  within  her  sight  and  reach.  Her  companion, 
a  Roman  turned  Palmyrene  as  I  heard,  was  like  one 
palsied  when  she  was  gone,  till  when,  he  had  been  the 
very  Mars  of  the  field.  As  it  was,  he  was  the  true 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  121 

hero  of  the  day.  He  brought  to  my  mind  Odenatus. 
'Twas  so  he  looked  that  day  we  entered  Ctesiphon 
I  could  wish,  and  hope  too,  that  he  might  share  the 
throne  of  Zenobia,  but  that  all  the  world  knows  what 
a  man-hater  she  is.  But  were  you  not  there  ? ' 

*  No.     It  could  not  be.     I  remained  in  the  city.' 

'  Ten  thousand  more  of  such  men  as  you — and  we 
would  not  have  fallen  back  upon  Emesa,  nor  left  Anti- 
och  without  the  head  of  Aurelian.  But  alas  for  it, 
the  men  of  Palmyra  are  men  of  silk,  and  love  their 
pleasures  too  well  to  be  free.  I  should  call  them  wo 
men,  but  for  Zenobia  and  the  daughter  of  Gracchus.' 

'  Do  not  take  me  for  one  of  them.  I  am  a  Roman — 
and  could  not  fight  against  my  country.' 

'  A  Roman  !  and  what  makes  you  here  ?  Suppose 
I  were  to  run  you  through  with  this  spear  ? ' 

*  Give  me  another  and  you  are  welcome  to  try.' 

*  Am  I  so  ?     Then  will  I  not  do  it.     Give  a  man  his 
will  and  he  no   longer  cares  for  it.     Besides,  having 
escaped  with  hazard  from  the  clutches  of  one  Roman, 
I  will  not  encounter  another.     Dost  thou  know  that 
demon  Aurelian  ?     Half  who  fell,  fell  by  his  hand. 
His  sword  made  no  more  of  a  man  in  steel  armor,  than 
mine  would  of  a  naked  slave.     Many  a  tall  Palmyrene 
did  he   split  to  the   saddle,  falling  both  ways.     The 
ranks  broke   and  fled  wherever  he  appeared.     Death 
could  not  keep  pace  with  him.     The  Roman  Piso — 
of  our  side — sought  him  over  the  field,  to  try  his  for 
tune  with  him,  but  the  gods  protected  him,  and  he 
found  him  not :  otherwise  his  body  were  now  food  for 
hyenas.     No  arm  of  mortal  mould  can  cope  with  his. 
Mine  is  not  despicable :  there  is  not  its  match  in  Pal- 

VOL.  n.  11 


122  2  E  N  O  B  I  A. 

myra  :  but  I  would  not  encounter  Aurelian  unless  I 
were  in  love  with  death.' 

1  It  is  as  you  say,  I  well  know.  He  is  reputed  in 
our  army  to  have  killed  more  with  his  single  arm  in 
battle,  than  any  known  in  Roman  history.  Our  camp 
resounds  with  songs  which  celebrate  his  deeds  of  blood. 
His  slain  are  counted  by  thousands,  nothing  less.' 

'  The  gods  blast  him,  ere  he  be  seen  before  the  walls 
of  Palmyra  ;  our  chance  were  better  against  double  the 
number  of  legions  under  another  general.  The  general 
makes  the  soldier.  The  Roman  infantry  are  so  many 
Aurelians.  Yet  to-morrow's  sun  will  see  him  here. 
I  am  free  to  say,  I  tremble  for  Palmyra.  A  war  ill 
begun,  will,  if  auguries  are  aught,  end  worse.  Last 
night  the  sky  was  full  of  angry  flashes,  both  white  and 
red.  While  the  army  slept  over-wrought  upon  the 
desert,  and  the  silence  of  death  was  around,  the  watches 
heard  sounds  as  of  the  raging  of  a  battle,  distinct  and 
clear,  dying  away  in  groans  as  of  a  host  perishing 
under  the  sword  and  battle-axe.  These  horrid  sounds 
at  length  settled  over  the  sleeping  men,  till  it  seemed 
as  if  they  proceeded  from  them.  The  sentinels — at 
first  struck  dumb  with  terror  and  amazement — called 
out  to  one  another  to  know  what  it  should  mean,  but 
they  could  only  confirm  to  each  other  what  had  been 
heard,  and  together  ask  the  protection  of  the  gods. 
But  what  strikes  deeper  yet,  is  what  you  have  heard, 
that  the  Queen's  far-famed  Numidian,  just  as  we  came 
in  sight  of  the  walls  of  the  city,  stumbled,  and  where 
he  stumbled,  fell  and  died.  What  these  things  fore 
bode,  if  not  disaster  and  ruin,  't  is  hard  to  say.  I  need 
no  one  to  read  them  to  me.' 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  123 

Saying  thus,  he  rose  and  began  to  divest  himself  of 
the  remainder  of  his  heavy  armor,  saying,  as  he  did  it 
— *  It  was  this  heavy  armor  that  lost  us  the  day  at 
Antioch — lighter,  and  we  could  have  escaped  the 
meshes.  Now  let  me  lie  and  sleep.' 

Returning,  hardly  had  I  arrived  at  the  house  of 
Gracchus,  when  it  was  announced  in  loud  shouts  by 
the  slaves  of  the  palace,  that  Gracchus  himself,  Fausta 
and  Calpurnius  were  approaching.  I  hastened  to  the 
portico  overlooking  the  court-yard,  and  was  there  just 
in  season  to  assist  Fausta  to  dismount.  It  was  a  joy 
ful  moment  I  need  scarce  assure  you.  Fausta  returns 
wholly  unhurt.  Gracchus  is  wounded  upon  his  left, 
and  Calpurnius  upon  his  right  arm — but  will  not  long 
suffer  from  the  injury. 

It  was  an  unspeakable  joy,  once  more  to  hear  the 
cheerful  voice  of  Gracchus  resounding  in  the  walls  of 
his  own  dwelling,  and  to  see  Fausta,  eased  of  her  un 
natural  load  of  iron,  again  moving  in  her  accustomed 
sphere  in  that  graceful  costume,  partly  Roman  and 
partly  Persian,  and  which  now  hides  and  now  betrays 
the  form,  so  as  to  reveal  its  beauty  in  the  most  perfect 
manner.  A  deep  sadness,  deeper  than  ever,  sits  upon 
her  countenance,  whenever  her  own  thoughts  occupy 
her.  But  surrounded  by  her  friends,  her  native  spirit, 
too  elastic  to  be  subdued,  breaks  forth,  and  she  seems 
her  former  self  again. 

Our  evening  meal  was  sad,  but  not  silent. 

Gracchus  instructed  me,  by  giving  a  minute  narra 
tive  of  the  march  to  Antioch — of  the  two  battles — and 
the  retreat.  Calpurnius  related  with  equal  exactness 
the  part  which  he  took,  and  the  services  which  Fausta, 


124  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

by  her  penetrating  observation,  had  been  able  to  render 
to  the  army.  They  united  in  bestowing  the  highest 
encomiums  upon  Zenobia,  who  herself  planned  the 
battle,  and  disposed  the  forces,  and  with  such  consum 
mate  judgment,  that  Zabdas  himself  found  nothing  to 
disapprove  or  alter. 

'  The  day  was  clearly  ours,'  said  Fausta,  *  but  for 
the  artifice  of  Aurelian — allowable,  I  know,  by  all  the 
rules  of  war — by  which  we  were  led  on  blindfold  to 
our  ruin.  But  flushed  as  we  were  by  the  early  and 
complete  success  of  the  day,  is  it  to  be  severely  con 
demned  that  our  brave  men  followed  up  their  advan 
tages  with  too  much  confidence,  and  broke  from  that 
close  order,  in  which  till  then,  they  had  fought ;  and 
by  doing  so,  lost  the  command  of  themselves  and  their 
own  strength  ?  O,  the  dulness  of  our  spirits,  that  we 
did  not  sooner  detect  the  rank  insincerity  of  that  sud 
den,  unexpected  retreat  of  the  Roman  horse  ! ' 

'  The  gods  rather  be  praised,'  said  Gracchus,  '  that 
your  watchful  eye  detected  so  soon,  what  was  too  well 
concerted  and  acted  to  be  perceived  at  all,  and  that  as 
the  fruit  of  it  we  sit  here  alive,  and  Zenobia  holds  her 
throne,  and  so  many  of  our  brave  soldiers  are  now 
locked  in  sleep  beneath  their  quiet  tents.' 

*  That,  I  think,'  said  Calpurnius,  '  is  rather  the  sen 
timent  that  should  possess  us.  You  will  hardly  believe, 
Lucius,  that  it  was  owing  to  the  military  genius  of 
your  ancient  playmate,  that  we  escaped  the  certain 
destruction  that  had  been  prepared  for  us  ? ' 

'  I  can  believe  any  thing  good  in  that  quarter,  and 
upon  slighter  testimony.  I  have  already  heard  from 
the  lips  of  a  soldier  of  your  legion,  that  which  you  have 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  125 

now  related.  Part  of  the  praise  was  by  him  bestowed 
upon  one  Piso,  a  Roman  turned  Palmyrene  as  he 
termed  him,  who,  he  reported,  fought  at  the  side  of 
the  daughter  of  Gracchus.' 

'  He  could  not  have  said  too  much  of  that  same  Piso,' 
said  Gracchus.  '  Palmyra  owes  him  a  large  debt  of 
gratitude,  which  I  am  sure  she  will  not  be  slow  to  pay. 
But  let  us  think  rather  of  the  future  than  of  the  past, 
which,  however  we  may  have  conducted,  speaks  only 
of  disaster.' 

I  thank  you  for  your  assurances  concerning  Laco 
and  Coelia.  Your  conscience  will  never  reproach  you 
for  this  lenity. 


VOL.  11.  11* 


126  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 


LETTER    XIV. 

THE  last  days  of  this  so  lately  favored  empire  draw 
near — at  least  such  is  my  judgment.  After  a  brief 
day  of  glory,  its  light  will  set  in  a  long  night  of  utter 
darkness  and  ruin. 

Close  upon  the  rear  guard  of  the  Queen's  forces 
followed  the  light  troops  of  Aurelian,  and  early  this 
morning  it  was  proclaimed  that  the  armies  of  Rome 
were  in  sight,  and  fast  approaching  the  city.  These 
armies  were  considered  too  numerous  to  hazard  another 
battle,  therefore  the  gates  were  shut,  and  we  are  now 
beleaguered  by  a  power  too  mighty  to  contend  with, 
and  which  the  Arabs,  the  climate,  and  want,  must  be 
trusted  to  subdue.  The  circumjacent  plains  are  filled 
with  the  legions  of  Rome.  Exhausted  by  the  march 
across  the  desert,  they  have  but  pitched  their  tents,  and 
now  repose. 

The  Queen  displays  more  than  ever  her  accustomed 
activity  and  energy.  She  examines  in  person  every 
part  .of  the  vast  extent  of  wall,  and  every  engine  planted 
upon  them  for  their  defence.  By  her  frequent  presence 
in  every  part  of  the  city  she  inspires  her  soldiers  with 
the  same  spirit  which  possesses  herself;  and  for  herself, 
to  behold  her  careering  through  the  streets  of  the  city, 
reviewing,  and  often  addressing,  the  different  divisions 
of  the  army,  and  issuing  her  commands,  she  seems 
rather  like  one  who  is  now  Queen  of  the  East,  and  is 
soon  to  be  of  the  world,  than  one  whose  dominion  is 
already  narrowed  down  to  the  compass  of  a  single  city, 


2  E  N  O  B  I  A  ,  1? 

and  may  shortly  be  deprived  even  of  that.  The  lofty 
dignity  of  her  air  has  assumed  a  more  imposing  great 
ness  still.  The  imperial  magnificence  of  her  state  is 
noways  diminished,  but  rather  increased,  so  that  by  a 
sort  of  delusion  of  the  senses,  she  seems  more  a  Queen 
than  ever.  By  her  native  vigor  and  goodness,  and  by 
the  addition  of  a  most  consummate  art,  by  which  she 
manages  as  she  will  a  people  whom  she  perfectly 
comprehends,  she  is  at  this  moment  more  deeply  in 
trenched  within  the  affections  of  her  subjects,  and 
more  completely  the  object  of  their  idolatrous  homage 
than  ever  before.  Yet  in  her  secret  soul  there  is  a 
jileep  depression,  and  a  loss  of  confidence  in  her  cause, 
which  amounts  not  yet  to  a  loss  of  hope,  but  ap 
proaches  it.  This  is  seen  by  those  who  can  observe 
her  in  her  more  quiet  hours,  when  the  glare  of  public 
action  and  station  is  off,  and  her  mind  is  left  to  its 
own  workings.  But,  like  those  who  play  at  dice,  she 
has  staked  all — her  kingdom,  her  crown — her  life 
perhaps — upon  a  single  throw,  and  having  wound 
herself  up  to  the  desperate  act,  all  the  entreaty  or  ar 
gument  of  the  whole  earth  could  not  move  her  to  un 
clasp  the  hand  that  wields  the  fatal  box.  She  will 
abide  the  throw. 

There  are  still  those  who  use  both  intreaty  and 
argument  to  persuade  her  even  at  this  late  hour  to 
make  the  best  terms  she  may  with  Rome.  Otho, 
though  perfectly  loyal  and  true,  ceases  not  to  press 
upon  her,  both  in  public  and  in  private,  those  conside 
rations  which  may  have  any  weight  with  her  to  in 
duce  a  change  of  measures.  But  it  has  thus  far  been 
to  no  purpose.  Others  there  are  who,  as  the  danger 


128  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

increases,  become  more  and  more  restless,  and  scruple 
not  to  let  their  voice  be  heard  in  loud  complaint  and 
discontent,  but  they  are  too  few  in  proportion  y  the 
whole,  to  make  them  objects  of  apprehension.  It  will 
however  be  strange  if,  as  the  siege  is  prolonged,  they 
do  not  receive  such  accessions  of  strength  as  to  render 
them  dangerous. 

The  Emperor  has  commenced  his  attacks  upon  the 
city  in  a  manner  that  shows  him  unacquainted  with 
its  strength.  The  battle  has  raged  fiercely  all  day, 
with  great  loss  we  infer  to  the  Romans,  with  none  we 
know  to  the  Palmyrenes. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  second  day  it  was 
evident  that  a  general  assault  was  to  be  made.  The 
Eoman  army  completely  surrounded  the  city,  at  the 
same  signal  approached,  and  under  cover  of  their 
shields,  attempted  both  to  undermine  and  scale  the 
walls.  But  their  attempts  were  met  with  such  vigor, 
and  with  such  advantage  of  action  by  the  besieged,  that 
although  repeated  many  times  during  the  day,  they 
have  resulted  in  only  loss  and  death  to  the  assailants. 
It  is  incredible  the  variety  and  ingenuity  of  the  con 
trivances  by  which  the  Queen's  forces  beat  off  and 
rendered  ineffectual  all  the  successive  movements  of 
the  enemy,  in  their  attempts  to  surmount  the  walls. 
Not  only  from  every  part  of  them  were  showers  of 
arrows  discharged  from  the  bows  of  experienced  arch 
ers,  but  from  engines  also,  by  which  they  were  driven 
to  a  much  greater  distance,  and  with  great  increase  of 
force. 

This  soon  rendered  every  attack  of  this  nature  use- 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  129 

less  and  worse,  and  their  efforts  were  then  concentrated 
upon  the  several  gates,  which  simultaneously  were 
attempted  to  be  broken  in,  fired,  or  undermined.  But 
here  again,  as  often  as  these  attempts  were  renewed, 
were  they  defeated,  and  great  destruction  made  of 
those  engaged  in  them.  The  troops  approached  as  is 
usual,  covered  completely,  or  buried  rather,  beneath 
their  shields.  They  were  suffered  to  form  directly 
under  the  walls,  and  actually  commence  their  work 
of  destruction,  when  suddenly  from  the  towers  of  the 
gates,  and  through  channels  constructed  for  the  pur 
pose  in  every  part  of  the  masonry,  torrents  of  liquid 
fire  were  poured  upon  the  iron  roof,  beneath  which  the 
soldiers  worked.  This  at  first  they  endured.  The 
melted  substances  ran  off  from  the  polished  surface  of 
the  shields,  and  the  stones  which  were  dashed  upon 
them  from  engines,  after  rattling  and  bounding  over 
their  heads,  rolled  harmless  to  the  ground.  But  there 
was  in  reserve  a  foe  which  they  could  not  encounter. 
When  it  was  found  that  the  fiery  streams  flowed  down 
the  slanting  sides  of  the  shell,  penetrating  scarcely  at 
all  through  the  crevices  of  the  well-joined  shields,  it 
was  suggested  by  the  ingenious  Periander,  that  there 
should  first  be  thrown  down  a  quantity  of  pitch  in  a 
half  melted  state,  by  which  the  whole  surface  of  the 
roof  should  be  completely  covered,  and  which  should 
then,  by  a  fresh  discharge  of  fire,  be  set  in  a  blaze,  the 
effect  of  which  must  be  to  heat  the  shields  to  such  a 
degree,  that  they  could  neither  be  held,  nor  the  heat 
beneath  endured  by  the  miners.  This  was  imme 
diately  resorted  to  at  all  the  gates,  and  the  success  was 
complete.  For  no  sooner  was  the  cold  pitch  set  on 


130  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

fire  and  constantly  fed  by  fresh  quantities  from  above, 
than  the  heat  became  insupportable  to  those  below, 
who  suddenly  letting  go  their  hold,  and  breaking  away 
from  their  compacted  form,  in  hope  to  escape  from  the 
stifling  heat,  the  burning  substance  then  poured  in 
upon  them,  and  vast  numbers  perished  miserably  upon 
the  spot,  or  ran  burning,  and  howling  with  pain,  toward 
the  camp.  The  slaughter  made  was  very  great,  and 
terrible  to  behold. 

Nevertheless,  the  next  day  the  same  attempts  were 
renewed,  in  the  hope,  we  supposed,  that  the  Queen's 
missiles  might  be  expended,  but  were  defeated  again 
in  the  same  manner  and  with  like  success. 

These  things  being  so,  and  Aurelian  being  apparent 
ly  convinced  that  the  city  cannot  be  taken  by  storm, 
the  enemy  are  now  employed  in  surrounding  it  with  a 
double  ditch  and  rampart,  as  defences  both  against  us 
and  our  allies,  between  which  the  army  is  to  be  safely 
encamped;  an  immense  labor,  to  which  I  believe  a 
Roman  army  is  alone  equal.  While  this  has  been 
doing,  the  Palmyrenes  have  made  frequent  sallies  from 
the  gates,  greatly  interrupting  the  progress  of  the 
work,  and  inflicting  severe  losses.  These  attacks  have 
usually  been  made  at  night,  when  the  soldiers  have 
been  wearied  by  the  exhausting  toil  of  the  day,  and 
only  a  small  proportion  of  the  whole  have  been  in  a 
condition  to  ward  off  the  blows. 

The  Roman  works  are  at  length  completed.  Every 
lofty  palm  tree,  every  cedar,  every  terebinth,  has  dis 
appeared  from  the  surrounding  plains,  to  be  converted 
into  battering  rams,  or  wrought  into  immense  towers, 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  131 

planted  upon  wheels,  by  which  the  walls  are  to  be 
approached  and  surmounted.  Houses  and  palaces  have 
been  demolished,  that  the  ready  hewed  timber  might 
be  detached  and  applied  to  various  warlike  purposes. 
The  once  beautiful  environs  already  begin  to  put  on 
the  appearance  of  desolation  and  ruin. 

The  citizens  have  awaited  these  preparations  with 
watchful  anxiety.  The  Queen  has  expressed  every 
where  and  to  all, her  conviction  that  all  these  vast  and 
various  preparations  are  futile — that  the  bravery  of  her 
soldiers,  and  the  completeness  of  her  counter  provisions, 
will  be  sufficient  for  the  protection  and  deliverance  of 
the  city. 

Another  day  of  fierce  and  bloody  war.  At  four 
different  points  have  the  vast  towers  been  pushed  to 
the  walls,  filled  with  soldiers,  and  defended  against  the 
fires  of  the  besieged  by  a  casing  of  skins,  and  every 
incombustible  substance,  and  provided  with  a  store  of 
water  to  quench  whatever  part  might  by  chance  kindle. 
It  was  fearful  to  behold  these  huge  structures  urged 
along  by  a  concealed  force,  partly  of  men  and  partly 
of  animals,  and  drawing  nigh  the  walls.  If  they  should 
once  approach  so  near  that  they  could  be  fastened  to 
the  walls,  and  so  made  secure,  then  could  the  enemy 
pour  their  legions  upon  the  ramparts,  and  the  battle 
would  be  transferred  to  the  city  itself.  But  in  this 
case,  as  in  the  assaults  upon  the  gates,  the  fire  of  the 
besieged  has  proved  irresistible. 

It  was  the  direction  of  Periander,  to  whose  unequal 
led  sagacity  this  part  of  the  defence  was  entrusted, 
that  so  soon  as  the  towers  should  approach  within 
reach  of  the  most  powerful  engines,  they  should  be 


132  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

fired,  if  possible,  by  means  of  well-barbed  arrows  and 
javelins,  to  which  were  attached  sacs  arid  balls  of  in 
flammable  and  explosive  substances.  These  fastening 
themselves  upon  every  part  of  the  tower  could  not  fail 
to  set  fire  to  them  while  yet  at  some  distance,  and  in 
extinguishing  which  the  water  and  other  means  pro 
vided  for  that  purpose  would  be  nearly  or  quite  ex 
hausted,  before  they  had  reached  the  walls.  Then  as 
they  came  within  easier  reach,  the  engines  were  to 
belch  forth  those  rivers  of  oil,  fire,  and  burning  pitch, 
which  he  was  sure  no  structure,  unless  of  solid  iron, 
could  withstand. 

These  directions  were  carefully  observed,  and  their 
success  at  every  point  such  as  Periander  had  predicted. 
At  the  Gate  of  the  Desert  the  most  formidable  prepa 
rations  were  made,  under  the  inspection  of  the  Emperor 
himself,  who,  at  a  distance,  could  plainly  be  discerned 
directing  the  work  and  encouraging  the  soldiers.  Two 
towers  of  enormous  size  were  here  constructed,  and 
driven  toward  the  walls.  Upon  both,  as  they  came 
within  the  play  of  the  engines,  were  showered  the  fiery 
javelins  and  arrows,  which  it  required  all  the  activity 
of  the  occupants  to  ward  off,  or  extinguish  where  they 
had  succeeded  in  fastening  themselves.  One  was  soon 
in  flames.  The  other,  owing  either  to  its  being  of  a 
better  construction,  or  to  a  less  vigorous  discharge  of 
fire  on  the  part  of  the  defenders  of  the  wall,  not  only 
escaped  the  more  distant  storm  of  blazing  missiles,  but 
succeeded  in  quenching  the  floods  of  burning  pitch  and 
oil,  which,  as  it  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  were  poured 
upon  it  in  fiery  streams.  On  it  moved,  propelled  by 
its  invisible  and  protected  power,  and  had  now  reached 


2  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  133 

the  wall ;  the  bridge  was  in  the  very  act  of  being 
thrown  and  grappled  to  the  ramparts ;  Aurelian  was 
seen  pressing  forward  the  legions,  who,  as  soon  as  it 
should  be  fastened,  were  to  pour  up  its  flights  of  steps 
and  out  upon  the  walls  ;  when,  to  the  horror  of  all,  not 
less  of  the  besiegers  than  of  the  besieged,  its  founda 
tions  upon  one  side — being  laid  over  the  moat — sud 
denly  gave  way,  and  the  towering  and  enormous  mass, 
with  all  its  living  burden,  fell  thundering  to  the  plain. 
A  shout,  as  of  a  delivered  and  conquering  army,  went 
up  from  the  walls,  while  upon  the  legions  below,  such 
as  had  not  been  crushed  by  the  tumbling  ruin,  and 
who  endeavored  to  save  themselves  by  flight,  a  sudden 
storm  of  stones,  rocks,  burning  pitch,  and  missiles  of 
a  thousand  kinds  was  directed,  that  left  few  to  escape 
to  tell  the  tale  of  death  to  their  comrades.  Aurelian, 
in  his  fury,  or  his  desire  to  aid  the  fallen,  approaching 
too  near  the  walls,  was  himself  struck  by  a  well-direct 
ed  shaft,  wounded,  and  borne  from  the  field. 

At  the  other  gates,  where  similar  assaults  had  been 
made,  the  same  success  attended  the  Palmyrenes.  The 
towers  were  in  each  instance  set  on  fire  and  destroyed. 

The  city  has  greatly  exulted  at  the  issue  of  these 
repeated  contests.  Every  sound  and  sign  of  triumph 
has  been  made  upon  the  walls.  Banners  have  been 
waved  to  and  fro,  trumpets  have  been  blown,  and  in 
bold  defiance  of  their  power,  parties  of  horse  have  sal 
lied  out  from  the  gates,  and  after  careering  in  sight 
of  the  enemy,  have  returned  again  within  the  walls. 
The  enemy  are  evidently  dispirited,  and  already  weary 
of  the  work  they  have  undertaken. 

The  Queen  and  her  ministers  are  confident  of  sue- 
VOL.  IT.  12 


134  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

cess,  so  far  as  active  resistance  of  the  attacks  upon  the 
walls  is  concerned — and  perhaps  with  reason.  For 
not  even  the  walls  of  Rome,  as  they  are  now  re-build 
ing,  can  be  of  greater  strength  than  these ;  and  never 
were  the  defences  of  a  besieged  city  so  complete  at  all 
points.  But  with  equal  reason  are  they  despondent  in 
the  prospect  of  Aurelian's  reducing  them  by  want.  If 
he  shall  succeed  in  procuring  supplies  for  his  army, 
and  if  he  shall  defeat  the  allies  of  the  Queen,  who  are 
now  every  day  looked  for,  captivity  and  ruin  are  sure. 
But  the  Queen  and  the  citizens  entertain  themselves- 
with  the  hope,  that  Aurelian's  fiery  temper  will  nevei 
endure  the  slow  and  almost  disgraceful  process  of 
starving  them  into  a  surrender,  and  that  finding  his 
army  constantly  diminishing  through  the  effects  of  such 
extraordinary  exertions  in  a  climate  like  this,  he  will 
at  length  propose  such  terms  as  they  without  dishonor 
can  accept. 

Many  days  have  passed  in  inactivity  on  both  sides  ; 
except  that  nothing  can  exceed  the  strictness  with 
which  all  approaches  to  the  city  are  v/atched,  and  the 
possibility  of  supplies  reaching  it  cut  off. 

That  which  has  been  expected  has  come  to  pass. 
The  Emperor  has  offered  terms  of  surrender  to  the 
Queen  ;  but  such  terms,  and  so  expressed,  that  their 
acceptance  was  not  so  much  as  debated.  The  Queen 
was  in  council  with  her  advisers,  when  it  was  announc 
ed  that  a  herald  from  the  Roman  camp  was  seen 
approaching  the  walls.  The  gates  were  ordered  to  be 
opened,  and  the  messenger  admitted.  He  was  con- 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  135 

ducted  to  the  presence  of  the  Queen,  surrounded  by 
her  ministers. 

'  I  come,'  said  he,  as  he  advanced  toward  Zenobia, 
*  bearing  a  letter  from  the  Emperor  of  Rome  to  the 
Queen  of  Palmyra.  Here  it  is.' 

'  I  receive  it  gladly,'  replied  the  Queen,  *  and  hope 
that  it  may  open  a  way  to  an  honorable  composition  of 
the  difficulties  which  now  divide  us.  Nichomachus, 
break  the  seals  and  read  its  contents.' 

The  secretary  took  the  epistle  from  the  hands  of  the 
herald,  and  opening,  read  that  which  follows  : 

'  Aurelian,  Emperor  of  Rome  and  Conqueror  of  the 
East,  to  Zenobia  and  her  companions  in  arms. 

( You  ought  of  your  own  accord  long  since  to  have 
done,  what  now  by  this  letter  I  enjoin  and  command. 
And  what  I  now  enjoin  and  command  is  this,  an  im 
mediate  surrender  of  the  city ;  but  with  assurance  of 
life  to  yourself  and  your  friends  ;  you,  O  Queen,  with 
your  friends,  to  pass  your  days  where  the  senate,  in  its 
sovereign  will,  shall  please  to  appoint.  The  rights  of 
every  citizen  shall  be  respected,  upon  condition  that  all 
precious  stones,  silver,  gold,  silk,  horses  and  camels  be 
delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  Romans.' 

As  the  secretary  finished  these  words  the  Queen 
broke  forth, — 

'What  think  you,  good  friends?7 — her  mounting 
color  and  curled  lip  showing  the  storm  that  raged 
within — *  What  think  you  ?  Is  it  a  man  or  a  god  who 
has  written  thus  ?  Can  it  be  a  mortal  who  speaks  in 
such  terms  to  another  ?  By  the  sou)  of  Odenatus,  but 


136  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

I  think  it  must  be  the  God  of  War  himself.     Slave, 
what  sayest  thou  ? ' 

*  I  am  but  the  chosen  bearer,'  the  herald  replied,  '  of 
what  I  took  from  the  hands  of  the  Emperor.     But  be 
tween  him  and  the  god  just  named  there  is,  as  I  deem, 
but  small  difference.' 

*  That 's  well  said,'    replied  the  Queen ;    « there  's 
something  of  the  old  Koman  in  thee.     Friends,'  she 
continued,  turning   to  her  counsellors,  '  what  answer 
shall  we  send  to  this  lordly  command  ?     What  is  your 
advice  ? ' 

'  Mine  is,'  said  Zabdas,  « that  the  Queen  set  her  foot 
upon  the  accursed  scroll,  and  that  yonder  wretch  that 
bore  it  be  pitched  headlong  from  the  highest  tower  upon 
the  walls,  and  let  the  wind  from  his  rotting  carcass 
bear  back  our  only  answer.' 

'  Nay,  nay,  brave  Zabdas,'  said  the  Queen,  the  fury 
of  her  general  having  the  effect  to  restore  her  own 
self-possession, '  thou  wouldst  not  counsel  so.  War  then 
doubles  its  wo  and  guilt,  when  cruelty  and  injustice 
bear  sway.  Otho,  what  sayest  thou  ?' 

'Answer  it  in  its  own  vein  !  You  smile,  Queen,  as 
if  incredulous.  But  I  repeat — answer  it  in  its  own 
vein!  I  confess  an  inward  disappointment  and  an 
inward  change.  I  hoped  much  from  terms  which  a 
wise  man  might  at  this  point  propose,  and  soil  neither 
his  own  nor  his  country's  honor.  But  Aurelian — I 
now  see — is  not  such  a  one.  He  is  but  the  spoiled 
child  of  fortune.  He  has  grown  too  quickly  great  to 
grow  well.  Wisdom  has  had  no  time  to  ripen.' 

Others  concurring,  Zenobia  seized  a  pen  and  wrote 
that  which  I  transcribe. 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  137 

*  Zenobia,  Queen  of  the  East,  to  Aurelian  Au 
gustus. 

'  No  one  before  you  ever  thought  to  make  a  letter 
serve  instead  of  a  battle.  But  let  me  tell  you,  what 
ever  is  won  in  war,  is  won  by  bravery,  not  by  letters. 
You  ask  me  to  surrender — as  if  ignorant  that  Cleopatra 
chose  rather  to  die,  than,  surrendering,  to  live  in  the 
enjoyment  of  every  honor.  Our  Persian  allies  will  not 
fail  me.  I  look  for  them  every  hour.  The  Saracens 
are  with  me — the  Armenians  are  with  me.  The  Sy 
rian  robbers  have  already  done  you  no  little  damage. 
What  then  can  you  expect,  when  these  allied  armies 
are  upon  you  ?  You  will  lay  aside  I  think  a  little  of 
that  presumption  with  which  you  now  command  rne 
to  surrender,  as  if  you  were  already  conqueror  of  the 
whole  world.' 

The  letter  being  written  and  approved  by  those  who 
were  present,  it  was  placed  by  Nichomachus  in  the 
hands  of  the  herald. 

No  one  can  marvel,  my  Curtius,  that  a  letter  in  the 
terms  of  Aurelian's  should  be  rejected,  nor  that  it  should 
provoke  such  an  answer  as  Zenobia's.  It  has  served 
merely  to  exasperate  passions  which  were  already 
enough  excited.  It  was  entirely  in  the  power  of  the 
Emperor  to  have  terminated  the  contest,  by  the  proposal 
of  conditions  which  Palmyra  would  have  gladly  accept 
ed,  and  by  which  Kome  would  have  been  more  profited 
and  honored  than  it  can  be  by  the  reduction  and  ruin 
of  a  city  and  kingdom  like  this.  But  it  is  too  true, 
that  Aurelian  is  rather  a  soldier  than  an  Emperor.  A 

VOL.    II. 


138  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

victory  got  by  blood  is  sweeter  far  to  him,  I  fear,  than 
tenfold  wider  conquests  won  by  peaceful  negotiations. 
The  effect  of  the  taunting  and  scornful  answer  of  the 
Queen  has  been  immediately  visible  in  the  increased 
activity  and  stir  in  the  camp  of  Aurelian.  Preparations 
are  going  on  for  renewed  assaults  upon  the  walls  upon 
a  much  larger  scale  than  before. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  the  letter  of 
Aurelian  was  received  and  answered,  I  resorted,  accord 
ing  to  my  custom  during  the  siege,  to  a  part  of  the 
walls  not  far  from  the  house  of  Gracchus,  whence  an 
extended  view  is  had  of  the  Roman  works  and  camp. 
Fausta,  as  often  before,  accompanied  me.  She  de 
lights  thus  at  the  close  of  these  weary,  melancholy 
days,  to  walk  forth,  breathe  the  reviving  air,  observe 
the  condition  of  the  city,  and  from  the  towers  upon  the 
walls,  watch  the  movements  and  labors  of  the  enemy. 
The  night  was  without  moon  or  stars.  Low  and  heavy 
clouds  hung,  but  did  not  move,  over  our  heads.  The 
air  was  still,  nay,  rather  dead,  so  deep  was  its  repose. 

'  How  oppressive  is  this  gloom,'  said  Fausta,  as  we 
came  forth  upon  the  ramparts,  and  took  our  seat  where 
the  eye  could  wander  unobstructed  over  the  plain,  *  and 
yet  how  gaily  illuminated  is  this  darkness  by  yonder 
belt  of  moving  lights.  It  seems  like  the  gorgeous  pre 
paration  for  a  funeral.  Above  us  and  behind  it  is 
silent  and  dark.  These  show  like  the  torches  of  the 
approaching  mourners.  The  gods  grant  there  be  no 
omen  in  this.' 

1 1  know  not,'  I  replied.  '  It  may  be  so.  To-day 
has,  I  confess  it,  destroyed  the  last  hope  in  my  mind 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  139 

that  there  might  come  a  happy  termination  to  this  un 
wise  and  unnecessary  contest.  It  can  end  now  only  in 
the  utter  defeat  and  ruin  of  one  of  the  parties — and 
which  that  shall  be  I  cannot  douht.  Listen,  Fausta, 
to  the  confused  murmur  that  comes  from  the  camp  of 
the  Roman  army,  bearing  witness  to  its  numbers ;  and 
to  those  sounds  of  the  hammer,  the  axe,  and  the  saw, 
plied  by  ten  thousand  arms,  bearing  witness  to  the 
activity  and  exhaustless  resources  of  the  enemy,  and 
you  cannot  but  feel,  that  at  last — it  may  be  long  first 
— but  that  at  last,  Palmyra  must  give  way.  From 
what  has  been  observed  to-day,  there  is  not  a  doubt 
that  Aurelian  has  provided,  by  means  of  regular  cara 
vans  to  Antioch,  for  a  constant  supply  of  whatever  his 
army  requires.  Reinforcements  too,  both  of  horse  and 
foot,  are  seen  daily  arriving,  in  such  numbers  as  more 
than  to  make  good  those  who  have  been  lost  under  the 
walls,  or  by  the  excessive  heats  of  the  climate.' 

'  I  hear  so,'  said  Fausta,  '  but  I  will  not  despair.  If 
I  have  one  absorbing  love,  it  is  for  Palmyra.  It  is  the 
land  of  my  birth,  of  my  affections.  I  cannot  tell  you 
with  what  pride  I  have  watched  its  growth,  and  its 
daily  advancement  in  arts  and  letters,  and  have  dwelt 
in  fancy  upon  that  future,  when  it  should  rival  Rome, 
and  surpass  the  traditionary  glories  of  Babylon  and 
Nineveh.  O  Lucius  !  to  see  now  a  black  pall  de 
scending — these  swollen  clouds  are  an  emblem  of  it^ 
and  settling  upon  the  prospect  and  veiling  it  forever  in 
death  and  ruin — I  cannot  believe  it.  It  cannot  have 
come  to  this.  It  is  treason  to  give  way  to  such  fears. 
Where  Zenobia  is,  final  ruin  cannot  come.' 

'  It  ought  not,  I  wish  it  could  not,'  I  replied,  *  but 


140  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

my  fears  are  that  it  will,  and  my  fears  now  are  convic 
tions.  Where  now,  my  dear  Fausta,  are  the  so  cer 
tainly  expected  reliefs  from  Armenia,  from  Persia  ? — 
Fausta,  Palmyra  must  fall.' 

'  Lucius  Piso,  Palmyra  shall  not  fall — I  say  it — and 
every  Palmyrene  says  it — and  what  all  say,  is  decreed. 
If  we  are  true  in  our  loyalty  and  zeal,  the  Romans  will 
be  wearied  out.  Lucius,  could  I  but  reach  the  tent  of 
Aurelian,  my  single  arm  should  rid  Palmyra  of  her 
foe,  and  achieve  her  freedom.' 

'No,  Fausta,  you  could  not  do  it.' 

'  Indeed  I  would  and  could.  I  would  consent  to 
draw  infamy  upon  my  head  as  a  woman,  if  by  putting 
off  my  sex  and  my  nature  too,  I  could  by  such  an  act 
give  life  to  a  dying  nation,  and  what  is  as  much,  pre 
serve  Zenobia  her  throne.' 

'  Think  not  in  that  vein,  Fausta.  I  would  not  that 
your  mind  should  be  injured  even  by  the  thought.' 

*  I  do  not  feel  it  to  be  an  injury,'  she  rejoined ;  '  it 
would  be  a  sacrifice  for  my  country,  and  the  dearer,  in 
that  I  should  lose  my  good  name  in  making  it.  I 
should  be  sure  of  one  thing,  that  I  should  do  it  in  no 
respect  for  my  own  glory.  But  let  us  talk  no  more  of 
it.  I  often  end,  Lucius,  when  thinking  of  our  calami 
ties,  and  of  a  fatal  termination  of  these  contests  to  us, 
with  dwelling  upon  one  bright  vision.  Misfortune  to 
us  will  bring  you  nearer  to  Julia.' 

'  The  gods  forbid  that  my  happiness  should  be  bought 
at  such  a  price  ! ' 

'  It  will  only  come  as  an  accidental  consequence, 
and  cannot  disturb  you.  If  Palmyra  falls,  the  pride 
of  Zenobia  will  no  longer  separate  you,' 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  141 

'  But,'  I  replied,  '  the  prospect  is  not  all  so  bright. 
Captive  princes  are  by  the  usages  of  Rome  often  sa 
crificed,  and  Aurelian,  if  sometimes  generous,  is  often 
cruel.  Fears  would  possess  me  in  the  event  of  a 
capitulation  or  conquest,  which  I  cannot  endure  to 
entertain.' 

'  O  Lucius,  you  rate  Aurelian  too  low,  if  you  believe 
he  could  revenge  himself  upon  a  woman — and  such  a 
woman  as  Zenobia.  I  cannot  believe  it  possible.  No. 
If  Palmyra  falls  it  will  give  you  Julia,  and  it  will  be 
some  consolation  even  in  the  fall  of  a  kingdom,  that  it 
brings  happiness  to  two,  whom  friendship  binds  closer 
to  me  than  any  others.' 

As  Fausta  said  these  words,  we  became  conscious 
of  the  presence  of  a  person  at  no  great  distance  from 
us,  leaning  against  the  parapet  of  the  wall,  the  upper 
part  of  the  form  just  discernible. 

'  Who  stands  yonder  ? '  said  Fausta.  '  It  has  not 
the  form  of  a  sentinel ;  besides,  the  sentinel  paces  by 
us  to  and  fro  without  pausing.  It  may  be  Calpurnius. 
His  legion  is  in  this  quarter.  Let  us  move  toward 
him.' 

'  No.      He  moves   himself  and   comes  toward  us 
How  dark  the  night!      I  can  make    nothing  of  the 
form.' 

The  figure  passed  us,  and  unchallenged  by  the  sen 
tinel  whom  it  met.  After  a  brief  absence  it  returned, 
and  stopping  as  it  came  before  us — 

'  Fausta!'  said  a  voice — once  heard,  not  to  be  mis 
taken. 

*  Zenobia ! '  said  Fausta,  and  forgetting  dignity,  em 
braced  her  as  a  friend. 


142 


Z  E  N  0  B  1  A  . 


'What  makes  you  here?'  inquired  Fausta; — *  are 
there  none  in  Palmyra  to  do  your  bidding,  but  you  must 
be  abroad  at  such  an  hour  and  such  a  place  ? ' 

'  'T  is  not  so  fearful  quite,'  replied  the  Queen,  « as  a 
battle-field,  and  there  you  trust  me.' 

'Never,  willingly.' 

4  Then  you  do  not  love  my  honor  ? '  said  the  Queen, 
taking  Fausta's  hand  as  she  spoke. 

'I  love  your  safety  better — no — no — what  have  I 
said — not  better  than  your  honor — and  yet  to  what 
end  is  honor,  if  we  lose  the  life  in  which  it  resides  ? 
I  sometimes  think  we  purchase  human  glory  too  dear 
ly,  at  the  sacrifice  of  quiet,  peace,  and  security.' 

I  But  you  do  not  think  so  long.     What  is  a  life  of 
indulgence  and  sloth  ?     Life  is  worthy  only  in  what  it 
achieves.      Should  I  have  done  better  to  have  sat  over 
my  embroidery,  in  the  midst  of  my  slaves,  all  my  days, 
than  to  have  spent  them  in  building  up  a  kingdom  ?' 

*  O  no — no — you  have  done  right.     Slaves  can  em 
broider  :   Zenobia  cannot.     This  hand  was  made  for 
other  weapon  than  the  needle.' 

*  I  am  weary,'  said  the  Queen ;  '  let  us  sit ;' — and 
saying  so,  she  placed  herself  upon  the  low  stone  block, 
upon  which  we  had  been  sitting,  and  drawing  Fausta 
near  her,  she  threw  her  left  arm  round  her,  retaining 
the  hand  she  held  clasped  in  her  own. 

I 1  am  weary,'   she  continued,  '  for  I  have  walked 
nearly  the  circuit  of  the  walls.    You  asked  what  makes 
me  here.     No  night  passes  but  I  visit  these  towers 
and  battlements.     If  the  governor  of  the  ship  sleeps, 
the  men  at  the  watch  sleep.     Besides,  I  love  Palmyra 
too  well  to  sleep  while   others  wait  and  watch.      I 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  143 

would  do  my  share.  How  beautiful  is  this! — the 
city  girded  by  these  strange  fires  !  its  ears  filled  with 
this  busy  music !  Piso,  it  seems  hard  to  believe  an 
enemy,  and  such  an  enemy,  is  there,  and  that  these 
sights  and  sounds  are  all  of  death  ! ' 

*  Would  it  were  not   so,  noble   Queen !     Would  it 
were  not  yet  too  late  to  move  in  the  cause  of  peace. 
If  even  at  the  risk  of  life  I — ' 

*  Forbear,  Piso,'  quickly  rejoined  the  Queen  ;  '  it  is 
to  no  purpose.     You  have  my  thanks,  but  your  Em 
peror  has  closed  the  door  of  peace  forever.     It  is  now 
war  unto  death.     He  may  prove  victor  :  it  is  quite  pos 
sible:  but  I  draw  not  back — no  word  of  supplication 
goes  from  me.     And  every  citizen  of  Palmyra,  save  a 
few  sottish  souls,  is  with  me.     It  were  worth  my  throne 
and  my  life,  the  bare  suggestion  of  an  embassy  now  to 
Aurelian.     But  let  us  not  speak  of  this,  but  of  things 
more   agreeable.     The  day  for  trouble,  the   night  for 
rest.      Fausta,  where  is  the  quarter  of   Calpurnius  ? 
methinks  it  is  hereabouts.' 

'  It  is,'  replied  Fausta,  *  just  beyond  the  towers  of 
the  gate  next  to  us ;  were  it  not  for  this  thick  night, 
we  could  see  where  at  this  time  he  is  usually  to  be 
found,  doing,  like  yourself,  an  unnecessary  task.' 

'  He  is  a  good  soldier  and  a  faithful — may  he  prove 
as  true  to  you,  my  noble  girl,  as  he  has  to  me.  Albeit 
I  am  myself  a  sceptic  in  love,  I  cannot  but  be  made 
happier  when  I  see  hearts  worthy  of  each  other  united 
by  that  bond.  I  trust  that  bright  days  are  coming, 
when  I  may  do  you  the  honor  I  would.  Piso,  I  am 
largely  a  debtor  to  your  brother — and  Palmyra  as  much. 
Singular  fortune  !  that  while  Rome  thus  oppresses  me, 


144  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

to  Romans  I  should  owe  so  much ;  to  one  twice  my 
life,  to  another  my  army.  But  where,  Lucius  Piso, 
was  your  heart,  that  it  fell  not  into  the  snare  that 
caught  Calpurnius  ? ' 

4  My  heart,'  I  replied,  *  has  always  been  Fausta's, 
from  childhood — ' 

*  Our  attachment,'  said  Fausta,  interrupting  me,  *  is 
not  less  than  love,  but  greater.  It  is  the  sacred  tie  of 
nature,  if  I  may  say  so,  of  brother  to  sister ;  it  is 
friendship.' 

'  You  say  well,'  replied  the  Queen.  *  I  like  the 
sentiment.  It  is  not  less  than  love,  but  greater.  Love 
is  a  delirium,  a  dream,  a  disease.  It  is  full  of  dis 
turbance.  It  is  unequal,  capricious,  unjust ;  its  felicity, 
when  at  the  highest,  is  then  nearest  to  deepest  misery  ; 
a  step,  and  it  is  into  unfathomable  gulfs  of  woe. 
While  the  object  loved  is  as  yet  unattained,  life  is 
darker  than  darkest  night.  When  it  is  attained,  it  is 
then  oftener  like  the  ocean  heaving  and  tossing  from 
its  foundations,  than  the  calm,  peaceful  lake,  which 
mirrors  friendship.  And  when  lost,  all  is  lost,  the 
universe  is  nothing.  Who  will  deny  it  the  name  of 
madness  ?  Will  love  find  entrance  into  Elysium  ? 
Will  heaven  know  more  than  friendship  ?  I  trust  not. 
It  were  an  element  of  discord  there,  where  harmony- 
should  reign  perpetual.'  After  a  pause,  in  which  she 
seemed  buried  in  thought,  she  added  musingly — 
*  What  darkness  rests  upon  the  future !  Life,  like 
love,  is  itself  but  a  dream  ;  often  a  brief  or  a  prolonged 
madness.  Its  light  burns  sometimes  brightly,  oftener 
obscurely,  and  with  a  flickering  ray,  and  then  goes  out 
in  smoke  and  darkness.  How  strange  that  creatures 


t 


ZEN  OBI  A.  145 


so  exquisitely  wrought  as  we  are,  capable  of  such 
thoughts  and  acts,  rising  by  science,  and  art,  and  let 
ters,  almost  to  the  level  of  gods,  should  be  fixed  here 
for  so  short  a  time,  running  our  race  with  the  unintel 
ligent  brute ;  living  not  so  long  as  some,  dying  like 
all.  Could  I  have  ever  looked  out  of  this  life  into  the 
possession  of  any  other  beyond  it,  I  believe  my  aims 
would  have  been  different.  I  should  not  so  easily 
have  been  satisfied  with  glory  and  power :  at  least  I 
think  so  ;  for  who  knows  himself?  I  should  then,  1 
think,  have  reached  after  higher  kinds  of  excellence, 
such  for  example  as,  existing  more  in  the  mind  itself, 
could  be  of  avail  after  death — could  be  carried  out  of 
the  world — which  power,  riches,  glory,  cannot.  The 
greatest  service  which  any  philosopher  could  perform 
for  the  human  race,  would  be  to  demonstrate' the  cer 
tainty  of  a  future  existence,  in  the  same  satisfactory 
manner  that  Euclid  demonstrates  the  truths  of  geome 
try.  We  cannot  help  believing  Euclid  if  we  would, 
and  the  truths  he  has  established  concerning  lines  and 
angles,  influence  us  whether  we  will  or  not.  When 
ever  the  immortality  of  the  soul  shall  be  proved  in 
like  manner,  so  that  men  cannot  help  believing  it,  so 
that  they  shall  draw  it  in  with  the  first  elements  of  all 
knowledge,  then  will  mankind  become  a  quite  differ 
ent  race  of  beings.  Men  will  be  more  virtuous  and 
_more  happy.  How  is  it  possible  to  be  either  in  a  very 
exalted  degree,  dwelling  as  we  do  in  this  deep  obscure, 
uncertain  whether  we  are  mere  earth  and  water,  or 
parts  of  the  divinity ;  whether  we  are  worms  or  im 
mortals  ;  men  or  gods ;  spending  all  our  days  in,  at 
best,  miserable  perplexity  and  doubt  ?  Do  you  remem- 
VOL.  ii.  13 


146  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

ber,  Fausta  and  Piso,  the  discourse  of  Longinus  in  the 
garden,  concerning  the  probability  of  a  future  life  ? 

'We  do,  very  distinctly.' 

*  And  how  did  it  impress  you  ? ' 

1  It  seemed  to  possess  much  likelihood,'  replied 
Fausta,  '  but  that  was  all.' 

1  Yes,'  responded  the  Queen,  sighing  deeply,  '  that 
was  indeed  all.  Philosophy,  in  this  part  of  it,  is  a 
mere  guess.  Even  Longinus  can  but  conjecture. 
And  what  to  his  great  and  piercing  intellect  stands  but 
in  the  strength  of  probability,  to  ours  will,  of  necessity, 
address  itself  in  the  very  weakness  of  fiction.  As  it 
is,  I  value  life  only  for  the  brightest  and  best  it  can  give 
now,  and  these  to  my  mind  are  power  and  a  throne. 
When  these  are  lost  I  would  fall  unregarded  into  dark 
ness  and  death.' 

'But,''  I  ventured  to  suggest,  :  you  derive  great 
pleasure  and  large  profit  from  study;  from  the  re 
searches  of  philosophy,  from  the  knowledge  of  history, 
from  contemplation  of  the  beauties  of  art,  and  the 
magnificence  of  nature.  Are  not  these  things  that 
give  worth  to  life  ?  If  you  reasoned  aright,  and  probed 
the  soul  well,  would  you  not  find  that  from  these,  as 
from  hidden  springs,  a  great  deal  of  all  the  best  felici 
ty  you  have  tasted,  has  welled  up  ?  Then,  still  more, 
from  acts  of  good  and  just  government ;  from  promot 
ing  and  witnessing  the  happiness  of  your  subjects ; 
from  private  friendship  ;  from  affections  resting  upon 
objects  worthy  to  be  loved — from  these  has  no  happi 
ness  come  worth  living  for  ?  And  beside  all  this,  from 
an  inward  consciousness  of  rectitude  ?  Most  of  all 
this  may  still  be  yours,  though  you  no  longer  sat  upon 
T  throne,  and  men  held  their  lives  but  in  your  breath. 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  147 

'From  such  sources,'  replied  Zenobia,  'some  streams 
have  issued  it  may  be,  that  have  added  to  what  I  have 
enjoyed ;  but,  of  themselves,  they  would  have  been 
nothing.  The  lot  of  earth,  being  of  the  low  and  com 
mon  herd,  is  a  lot  too  low  and  sordid  to  be  taken  if 
proffered.  I  thank  the  gods  mine  has  been  better.  It 
has  been  a  throne,  glory,  renown,  pomp,  and  power ; 
and  I  have  been  happy.  Stripped  of  these,  and  with 
out  the  prospect  of  immortality,  and  I  would  not  live.' 

With  these  words  she  rose  quickly  from  her  seat, 
saying  that  she  had  a  further  duty  to  perform.  Fausta 
intreated  to  be  used  as  an  agent  or  messenger,  but 
could  not  prevail.  Zenobia  darting  from  our  side  was 
in  a  moment  lost  in  the  surrounding  darkness.  We 
returned  to  the  house  of  Gracchus. 

In  a  few  days,  the  vast  preparations  of  the  Romans 
being  complete,  a  general  assault  was  made  by  the 
whole  army  upon  every  part  of  the  walls.  Every  en 
gine,  known  to  our  modern  methods  of  attacking  walled 
cities,  was  brought  to  bear.  Towers  constructed  in  the 
former  manner  were  wheeled  up  to  the  walls.  Batter 
ing  rams  of  enormous  size,  those  who  worked  them 
being  protected  by  sheds  of  hide,  thundered  on  all 
sides  at  the  gates  and  walls.  Language  fails  to  con 
vey  an  idea  of  the  energy,  the  fury,  the  madness  of 
the  onset.  The  Roman  army  seemed  as  if  but  one 
being,  with  such  equal  courage  and  contempt  of  danger 
and  death  was  the  dreadful  work  performed.  But  the 
Queen's  defences  have  again  proved  superior  to  all  the 
power  of  Aurelian.  Her  engines  have  dealt  death  and 
ruin  in  awful  measure  among  the  assailants.  The 


148 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A 


moat  and  the  surrounding  plain  are  filled  and  covered 
with  the  bodies  of  the  slain.  As  night  came  on  after 
a  long  day  of  uninterrupted  conflict,  the  troops  of  Au- 
relian,  baffled  and  defeated  at  every  point,  withdrew 
to  their  tents,  and  left  the  city  to  repose. 

The  temples  of  the  gods  have  resounded  with  songs 
of  thanksgiving  for  this  new  deliverance,  garlands 
have  been  hung  around  their  images,  and  gifts  laid 
upon  their  altars.  Jews  and  Christians,  Persians  and 
Egyptians,  after  the  manner  of  their  worship,  have 
added  their  voices  to  the  general  chorus. 

Again  there  has  been  a  pause.  The  Romans  have 
rested  after  the  late  fierce  assault  to  recover  strength, 
and  the  city  has  breathed  free.  Many  are  filled  with 
new  courage  and  hope,  and  the  discontented  spirits  are 
silenced.  The  praises  of  Zenobia,  next  to  those  of  the 
gods,  fill  every  mouth.  The  streets  ring  with  songs 
composed  in  her  honor. 

Another  day  of  excited  expectations  and  bitter  dis 
appointment. 

It  was  early  reported  that  forces  were  seen  approach 
ing  from  the  east,  on  the  very  skirts  of  the  plain,  and 
that  they  could  be  no  other  than  the  long-looked-for 
Persian  army.  Before  its  approach  was  indicated  to 
those  upon  the  highest  towers  of  the  gates,  by  the 
clouds  of  dust  hovering  over  it,  it  was  evident  from  the 
extraordinary  commotion  in  the  Roman  intrenchments, 
that  somewhat  unusual  had  taken  place.  Their  scouts 
must  have  brought  in  early  intelligence  of  the  advanc 
ing  foe.  Soon  as  the  news  spread  through  the  city  the 
most  extravagant  demonstrations  of  joy  broke  forth  on 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  149 

all  sides.  Even  the  most  moderate  and  sedate  could 
not  but  give  way  to  expressions  of  heartfelt  satisfaction. 
The  multitudes  poured  to  the  walls  to  witness  a  com 
bat  upon  which  the  existence  of  the  city  seemed  sus 
pended. 

*  Father,'  said  Fausta,  after  Gracchus  had  commu 
nicated  the  happy  tidings,  '  I  cannot  sit  here — let  us 
hasten  to  the  towers  of  the  Persian  gate,  whence  we 
may  behold  the  encounter.' 

*  I  will  not  oppose  you,'  replied  Gracchus,  «  but  the 
sight  may  cost  you  naught  but  tears  and  pain.     Per 
sia's  good  will,  I  fear,  will  not  be  much,  nor  manifested 
by  large  contributions  to  our  cause.     If  it  be  what  I 
suspect — but  a  paltry  subdivision   of  her   army,  sent 
here  rather  to  be  cut  in  pieces  than  aught  else — it  will 
but  needlessly  afflict  and  irritate.' 

*  Father,  I  would  turn  away  from  no  evil  that  threat 
ens   Palmyra.      Besides,  I  should  suffer  more  from 
imagined,  than  from  real  disaster.     Let  us  hasten  to 
the  walls.' 

"We  flew  to  the  Persian  gate. 

'  But  why,'  asked  Fausta,  addressing  Gracchus  on 
the  way,  *  are  you  not  more  elated  ?  What  suspicion 
do  you  entertain  of  Sapor  ?  Will  he  not  be  sincerely 
desirous  to  aid  us?' 

*  I  fear  not,'  replied  Gracchus.     '  If  we  are  to  be  the 
conquering  party  in  this  war,  he  will  send  such  an 
army  as  would  afterward  make  it  plain  that  he  had 
intended  an  act  of  friendship,  and  done  the  duty  of  an 
ally.     If  we  are  to  be  beaten,  he  will  lose  little  in  los 
ing  such  an  army,  and  will  easily,  by  placing  the 
matter   in  certain  lights,  convince  the  Romans  that 

VOL.  n.  13* 


150  Z  E  N  O  B  1  A  . 

their  interests  had  been  consulted,  rather  than  ours. 
We  can  expect  no  act  of  true  friendship  from  Sapor. 
Yet  he  dares  not  abandon  us.  Were  Hormisdas  upon 
the  throne,  our  prospects  were  brighter.' 

'  I  pray  the  gods  that  ancient  wretch  may  quickly 
perish  then,'  cried  Fausta,  '  if  such  might  be  the  con 
sequences  to  us.  Why  is  he  suffered  longer  to  darken 
Persia  and  the  earth  with  his  cruel  despotism  ! ' 

'  His  throne  shakes  beneath  him,'  replied  Gracchus : 
*  a  breath  may  throw  it  down.' 

As  we  issued  forth  upon  the  walls,  and  then  mounted 
to  the  battlements  of  the  highest  tower,  whence  the  eye 
took  in  the  environs  of  the  city,  and  even  the  farthest 
verge  of  the  plain,  and  overlooked,  like  one's  own 
court-yard,  the  camp  and  intrenchments  of  the  Romans 
— we  beheld  with  distinctness  the  Persian  forces  with 
in  less  than  two  Roman  miles.  They  had  halted  and 
formed,  and  there  apparently  awaited  the  enemy. 

No  sooner  had  Gracchus  surveyed  well  the  scene, 
than  he  exclaimed,  '  The  gods  be  praised  !  I  have 
done  Sapor  injustice.  Yonder  forces  are  such  as  may 
well  call  forth  all  the  strength  of  the  Roman  army. 
In  that  case  there  will  be  much  for  us  to  do.  I  must 
descend  and  to  the  post  of  duty.' 

So  saying  he  left  us. 

*  I  suppose,'  said  Fausta,  *  in  case  the  enemy  be 
such  as  to  draw  off  the  larger  part  of  the  Roman 
army,  sorties  will  be  made  from  the  gates  upon  their 
camp  ? ' 

'  Yes,'  I  rejoined  ;  *  if  the  Romans  should  suffer 
themselves  to  be  drawn  to  a  distance,  and  their  forces 
divided,  a  great  chance  would  fall  into  the  hands  of 


ZENOBIA.  151 

the  city.  But  that  they  will  not  do.  You  perceive 
the  Romans  move  not,  but  keep  their  station  just 
where  they  are.  They  will  oblige  the  Persians  to 
commence  the  assault  upon  them  in  their  present 
position,  or  there  will  be  no  battle.' 

'I  perceive  their  policy  now,'  said  Fausta.  'And 
the  battle  being  fought  so  near  the  walls,  they  are  still 
as  strongly  beleaguered  as  ever — at  least  half  their 
strength  seems  to  remain  within  their  intrenchments. 
See,  see  !  the  Persian  army  is  on  the  march.  It  moves 
toward  the  city.  Now  again  it  halts.' 

'  It  hopes  to  entice  Aurelian  from  his  position,  so  as 
to  put  power  into  our  hands.  But  they  will  fail  in 
their  object.' 

'  Yes,  I  fear  they  will,'  replied  Fausta.  '  The  Ro 
mans  remain  fixed  as  statues  in  their  place.' 

*  Is  it  not  plain  to  you,  Fausta,'  said  I,  '  that  the 
Persians  conceive  not  the  full  strength  of  the  Roman 
army  ?  Your  eye  can  now  measure  their  respective 
forces.' 

'  It  is  too  plain,  alas  ! '  said  Fausta.  '  If  the  Per 
sians  should  defeat  the  army  now  formed,  there  is 
another  within  the  trenches  to  be  defeated  afterwards. 
Now  they  move  again.  Righteous  gods,  interpose  in 
our  behalf ! ' 

At  this  moment  indeed  the  whole  Persian  army  put 
itself  into  quick  and  decisive  motion,  as  if  determined 
to  dare  all — and  achieve  all  for  their  ally,  if  fate  should 
so  decree.  It  was  a  sight  beautiful  to  behold,  but  of 
an  interest  too  painful  almost  to  be  endured.  The  very 
existence  of  a  city  and  an  empire  seemed  to  hang  upon 
its  issues;  and  here,  looking  on  and  awaiting  the 


152  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

decisive  moment,  was  as  it  were  the  empire  itself  as 
sembled  upon  the  walls  of  its  capital,  with  which,  if 
it  should  fall,  the  kingdom  would  also  fall,  and  the 
same  ruin  cover  both.  The  Queen  herself  was  there 
to  animate  and  encourage  by  her  presence,  not  only  the 
hearts  of  all  around,  but  even  the  distant  forces  of  the 
Persians,  who,  from  their  position,  might  easily  behold 
the  whole  extent  of  the  walls  and  towers,  covered  with 
an  innumerable  multitude  of  the  besieged  inhabitants, 
who,  by  waving  their  hands,  and  by  every  conceivable 
demonstration,  gave  them  to  feel  more  deeply  than  they 
could  otherwise  have  done,  how  much  was  depending 
upon  their  skill  and  bravery. 

Soon  after  the  last  movement  of  the  Persians,  the 
light  troops  of  either  army  encountered,  and  by  a  dis 
charge  of  arrows  and  javelins,  commenced  the  attack. 
Then  in  a  few  moments,  it  being  apparently  impossible 
to  restrain  the  impatient  soldiery,  the  battle  became 
general.  The  cry  of  the  onset  and  the  clash  of  arms 
fell  distinctly  upon  our  ears.  Long,  long,  were  the 
opposing  armies  mingled  together  in  one  undistinguish- 
able  mass,  waging  an  equal  fight.  Now  it  would  sway 
toward  the  one  side,  and  now  toward  the  other,  heaving 
and  bending  as  a  field  of  ripe  grain  to  the  fitful  breeze. 
Fausta  sat  with  clenched  hands  and  straining  eye, 
watching  the  doubtful  fight,  and  waiting  the  issue  in 
speechless  agony.  A  deep  silence,  as  of  night  and 
death,  held  the  whole  swarming  multitude  of  the  citi 
zens,  who  hardly  seemed  as  if  they  dared  breathe 
while  what  seemed  the  final  scene  was  in  the  act  of 
being  performed. 

Suddenly  a  new  scene,  and  more  terrific  because 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  153 

nearer,  burst  upon  our  sight.  At  a  signal  given  by 
Zenobia  from  the  high  tower  which  she  occupied,  the 
gates  below  us  flew  open,  and  Zabdas,  at  the  head  of 
all  the  flower  of  the  Palmyra  cavalry,  poured  forth, 
followed  closely  from  this  and  the  other  gates  by  the 
infantry.  The  battle  now  raged  between  the  walls  and 
the  Koman  intrenchments  as  well  as  beyond.  The 
whole  plain  was  one  field  of  battle  and  slaughter. 
Despair  lent  vigor  and  swiftness  to  the  horse  and  foot 
of  Palmyra;  rage  at  the  long  continued  contest,  revenge 
for  all  they  had  lost  and  endured^  nerved  the  Koman 
arm,  and  gave  a  double  edge  to  its  sword.  Never  be 
fore,  my  Curtius,  had  I  beheld  a  fight  in  which  every 
blow  seemed  so  to  carry  with  it  the  whole  soul,  boiling 
with  wrath,  of  him  who  gave  it.  Death  sat  upon  every 
arm. 

'  Lucius  ! '  cried  Fausta.  I  started,  for  it  had  been 
long  that  she  had  uttered  not  a  word. 

4  Lucius  !  unless  my  eye  grows  dim  and  lies,  which 
the  gods  grant,  the  Persians  !  look  !  they  give  way — 
is  it  not  so  ?  Immortal  gods,  forsake  not  my  country  ! ' 

'  The  battle  may  yet  turn,'  I  said,  turning  my  eyes 
where  she  pointed,  and  seeing  it  was  so — '  despair  not, 
dear  Fausta.  If  the  Persians  yield — see,  Zabdas  has 
mounted  the  Koman  intrenchments.' 

«  Yes — they  fly,'  screamed  Fausta,  and  would  madly 
have  sprung  over  the  battlements,  but  that  I  seized 
and  held  her.  At  the  same  moment  a  cry  aiose  that 
Zabdas  was  slain — her  eye  caught  his  noble  form  as 
it  fell  backwards  from  his  horse,  and  with  a  faint  ex 
clamation,  '  Palmyra  is  lost ! '  fell  lifeless  into  my 
arms. 


)  54  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

While  I  devoted  myself  to  her  recovery,  cries  of 
distress  and  despair  fell  from  all  quarters  upon  my  ear. 
And  when  I  had  succeeded  in  restoring  her  to  con 
sciousness,  the  fate  of  the  day  was  decided — the  Per 
sians  were  routed — the  Palmyrenes  were  hurrying  in 
wild  confusion  before  the  pursuing  Romans,  and  press 
ing  into  the  gates. 

'Lucius,'  said  Fausta,  <I  am  sorry  for  this  weakness. 
But  to  sit  as  it  were  chained  here,  the  witness  of  such 
disaster,  is  too  much  for  mere  mortal  force.  Could  I 
but  have  mingled  in  that  fight !  Ah,  how  cruel  the 
slaughter  of  those  flying  troops  !  Why  do  they  not 
turn,  and  at  least  die  with  their  faces  toward  the 
enemy  ?  Let  us  now  go  and  seek  Calpurnius  and 
Gracchus.' 

'  We  cannot  yet,  Fausta,  for  the  streets  are  thronged 
with  this  flying  multitude.' 

1  It  is  hard  to  remain  here,  the  ears  rent,  and  the 
heart  torn  by  these  shrieks  of  the  wounded  and  dying. 
How  horrible  this  tumult!  It  seems  as  if  the  world 
were  expiring.  There — the  gates  are  swinging  upon 
their  hinges  ;  they  are  shut.  Let  us  descend.' 

We  forced  our  way  as  well  as  we  could  through  the 
streets,  crowded  now  with  soldiers  and  citizens — the 
soldiers  scattered  and  in  disorder,  the  citizens  weeping 
and  alarmed — some  hardly  able  to  drag  along  them 
selves,  others  sinking  beneath  the  weight  of  the  wound 
ed  whom  they  bore  upon  their  shoulders,  or  upon 
lances  and  shields  as  upon  a  litter.  The  way  was  all 
along  obstructed  by  the  bodies  of  men  and  horses  who 
had  there  fallen  and  died,  their  wounds  allowing  them 
to  proceed  no  further,  or  who  had  been  run  down 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  155 

and  trampled  to  death  in  the  tumult  and  hurry  of  the 
entrance. 

After  a  long  and  weary  struggle,  we  reached  the 
house  of  Gracchus — still  solitary — for  neither  he  nor 
Calpurnius  had  returned.  The  slaves  gathered  around 
us  to  know  the  certainty  and  extent  of  the  evil.  When 
they  had  learned  it,  their  sorrow  for  their  mistress, 
whom  they  loved  for  her  own  sake,  and  whom  they 
saw  overwhelmed  with  grief,  made  them  almost  forget 
that  they  only  were  suffering  these  things  who  had 
inflicted  a  worse  injury  upon  themselves.  I  could  not 
but  admire  a  virtue  which  seemed  of  double  lustre  from 
the  circumstances  in  which  it  was  manifested. 

Calpurnius  had  been  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  but 
had  escaped  unhurt.  He  was  near  Zabdas  when  he 
fell,  and  revenged  his  death  by  hewing  down  the  soldier 
who  had  pierced  him  with  his  lance. 

'  Zabdas,'  said  Calpurnius,  when  in  the  evening  we 
recalled  the  sad  events  of  the  day,  '  was  not  instantly 
killed  by  the  thrust  of  the  spear,  but  falling  backwards 
from  his  horse,  found  strength  and  life  enough  remain 
ing  to  raise  himself  upon  his  knee,  and  cheer  me  on,  as 
I  flew  to  revenge  his  death  upon  the  retreating  Roman. 
As  I  returned  to  him,  having  completed  my  task,  he 
had  sunk  upon  the  ground,  but  was  still  living,  and  his 
eye  bright  with  its  wonted  fire.  I  raised  him  in  my 
arms,  and  lifting  him  upon  my  horse,  moved  toward 
the  gate,  intending  to  bring  him  within  the  walls.  But 
he  presently  entreated  me  to  desist.' 

'  "  I  die,"  said  he ;  "  it  is  all  in  vain,  noble  Piso.  Lay 
me  at  the  root  of  this  tree,-  and  that  shall  be  my  bed 
and  its  shaft  my  monument." 

*  I  took  him  from  the  horse  as  he  desired.' 


156  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

1  '  Place  me,"  said  he,  "  with  my  back  against  the 
tree,  and  my  face  toward  the  intrenchments,  that  while 
I  live  I  may  see  the  battle.  Piso,  tell  the  Queen  that 
to  the  last  hour  I  am  true  to  her.  It  has  been  my  glory 
in  life  to  live  but  for  her,  and  my  death  is  a  happiness, 
dying  for  her.  Her  image  swims  before  me  now,  and 
over  her  hovers  a  winged  victory.  The  Romans  fly — 
I  knew  it  would  be  so — the  dogs  cannot  stand  before 
the  cavalry  of  Palmyra — they  never  could — they  fled 
at  Antioch.  Hark ! — there  are  the  shouts  of  triumph 
— bring  me  my  horse — Zenobia !  live  and  reign  for 
ever  !" 

'  With  these  words  and  in  this  happy  delusion,  his 
head  fell  upon  his  bosom,  and  he  died.  I  returned  to 
the  conflict ;  but  it  had  become  a  rout,  and  I  was  borne 
along  with  the  rushing  throng  toward  the  gates.' 

After  a  night  of  repose  and  quiet,  there  has  come 
another  day  of  adversity.  The  hopes  of  the  city  have 
again  been  raised,  only  again  to  be  disappointed.  The 
joyful  cry  was  heard  from  the  walls  in  the  morning, 
that  the  Saracens  and  Armenians  with  united  forces 
were  in  the  field.  Coming  so  soon  upon  the  fatiguing 
duty  of  the  last  day,  and  the  Roman  army  not  having 
received  reinforcements  from  the  West,  it  was  believed 
that  the  enemy  could  not  sustain  another  onset  as  fierce 
as  that  of  the  Persians.  I  hastened  once  more  to  the 
walls — Fausta  being  compelled  by  Gracchus  to  remain 
within  the  palace — to  witness  as  I  believed  another 
battle. 

The  report  I  found  true.  The  allied  forces  of  those 
nations  were  in  sight — the  Romans  were  already  drawn 
from  their  encampment  to  encounter  them.  The  same 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  157 

policy  was  pursued  on  their  part  as  before.  They 
awaited  the  approach  of  the  new  enemy  just  on  the 
outer  side  of  their  works.  The  walls  and  towers  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach  were  again  swarming  with 
the  population  of  Palmyra. 

For  a  long  time  neither  army  seemed  disposed  to 
move. 

'  They  seem  not  very  ready  to  try  the  fortune  of 
another  day,'  said  a  citizen  to  me  standing  by  my  side. 
'  Nor  do  I  wonder.  The  Persians  gave  them  rough 
handling.  A  few  thousands  more  on  their  side,  and 
the  event  would  not  have  been  as  it  was.  Think  you 
not  the  sally  under  Zabdas  was  too  long  deferred  ?  ' 

'  It  is  easy  afterward,'  I  replied,  '  to  say  how  an 
action  should  have  been  performed.  It  requires  the 
knowledge  and  wisdom  of  a  god  never  to  err.  There 
were  different  judgments  I  know,  but  for  myself  I  be 
lieve  the  Queen  was  right ;  that  is,  whether  Zabdas 
had  left  the  gates  earlier  or  later,  the  event  would  have 
been  the  same.' 

'What  means  that?'  suddenly  exclaimed  my  com 
panion  ;  '  see  you  yonder  herald  bearing  a  flag  of  truce, 
and  proceeding  from  the  Roman  ranks  ?  It  bodes  no 
good  to  Palmyra.  What  think  you  the  purpose  is  ? ' 

'  It  may  be  but  to  ask  a  forbearance  of  arms  for  a  few 
hours,  or  a  day  perhaps.  Yet  it  is  not  the  custom  of 
Rome.  I  cannot  guess.' 

1  That  can  I,'  exclaimed  another  citizen  on  my  other 
side.  *  Neither  in  the  Armenians  nor  yet  the  Saracens 
can  so  much  trust  be  reposed  as  in  a  Christian  or  a  Jew. 
They  are  for  the  strongest.  Think  you  they  have  come 
to  fight  ?  Not  if  they  can  treat  to  better  purpose.  The 
VOL.  n.  14 


158  Z  £  N  0  B  I  A  . 

Romans,  who  know  by  heart  the  people  of  the  whole 
earth,  know  them.  Mark  me,  they  will  draw  never  a 
sword.  As  the  chances  are  now,  they  will  judge  the 
Romans  winners,  and  a  little  gold  will  buy  them.' 

'  The  gods  forbid,'  cried  the  other,  '  that  it  should  be 
so  ;  they  are  the  last  hope  of  Palmyra.  If  they  fail  us, 
we  must  e'en  throw  open  our  gates,  and  take  our  fate 
at  the  mercy  of  Aurelian.' 

'  Never  while  I  have  an  arm  that  can  wield  a  sword, 
shall  a  gate  of  Palmyra  swing  upon  its  hinge  to  let  in 
an  enemy.' 

*  Food  already  grows  short,'  said  the  first ;  *  better 
yield  than  starve.' 

'  Thou,  friend,  art  in  no  danger  for  many  a  day,  if, 
as  is  fabled  of  certain  animals,  thou  canst  live  on  thine 
own  fat.  Or  if  it  came  to  extremities,  thou  wouldst 
make  a  capital  stew  or  roast  for  others.' 

At  which  the  surrounding  crowd  laughed  heartily, 
while  the  fat  man,  turning  pale,  slunk  away  and  dis 
appeared. 

'  That  man,'  said  one,  '  would  betray  a  city  for  a  full 
meal.' 

'  I  know  him  well,'  said  another ;  '  he  is  the  earliest 
at  the  markets,  where  you  may  always  see  him  feeling 
out  with  his  fat  finger  the  parts  of  meats  that  are  kin 
dred  to  himself.  His  soul,  could  it  be  seen,  would  be 
of  the  form  of  a  fat  kidney.  His  riches  he  values  only 
as  they  can  be  changed  into  food.  Were  all  Palmyra 
starved,  he,  were  he  sought,  would  be  found  in  some 
deep-down  vault,  bedded  in  the  choicest  meats — enough 
to  stand  a  year's  siege,  and  leave  his  paunch  as  far  about 
as  't  is  to-day.  See,  the  Queen  betrays  anxiety.  The 
^ods  shield  her  from  harm !' 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  159 

Zenobia  occupied  the  same  post  of  observation  as 
before.  She  paced  to  and  fro  with  a  hasty  and  troubled 
step  the  narrow  summit  of  the  tower,  where  she  had 
p  aced  herself. 

After  no  long  interval  of  time,  the  Roman  herald 
vas  seen  returning  from  the  camp  of  the  Armenians. 
Again  he  sallied  forth  from  the  tent  of  Aurelian,  on  the 
same  errand.  It  was  too  clear  now  that  negotiations 
were  going  on  which  might  end  fatally  for  Palmyra. 
Doubt,  fear,  anxiety,  intense  expectation  kept  the  mul 
titude  around  me  in  breathless  silence,  standing  at  fixed 
gaze,  like  so  many  figures  of  stone. 

They  stood  not  long  in  this  deep  and  agonizing 
suspense ;  for  no  sooner  did  the  Roman  herald  reach 
the  tents  of  the  allied  armies,  and  hold  brief  parley 
with  their  chiefs,  than  he  again  turned  toward  the 
Roman  intrenchments  at  a  quick  pace,  and  at  the 
same  moment  the  tents  of  the  other  party  were  struck, 
and  while  a  part  commenced  a  retreat,  another  and 
larger  part  moved  as  auxiliaries  to  join  the  camp  of 
Aurelian. 

Cries  of  indignation,  rage,  grief  and  despair,  then 
burst  from  the  miserable  crowds,  as  with  slow  and 
melancholy  steps  they  turned  from  the  walls  to  seek 
again  their  homes.  Zenobia  was  seen  once  to  clasp 
her  hands,  turning  her  face  toward  the  heavens.  As 
she  emerged  from  the  tower  and  ascended  her  chariot, 
the  enthusiastic  throngs  failed  not  to  testify  their 
unshaken  confidence  and  determined  spirit  of  devotion 
to  her  and  her  throne,  by  acclamations  that  seemed  to 
shake  the  very  walls  themselves. 

This  last  has  proved  a  heavier  blow  to  Palmyra  than 


160  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

the  former.  It  shows  that  their  cause  is  regarded  by 
the  neighboring  powers  as  a  losing  one,  or  already  lost 
and  that  hope,  so  far  as  it  rested  upon  their  friendly 
interposition,  must  be  abandoned.  The  city  is  silent 
and  sad.  Almost  all  the  forms  of  industry  having 
ceased,  the  inhabitants  are  doubly  wretched  through 
their  necessary  idleness  ;  they  can  do  little  but  sit  and 
brood  over  their  present  deprivations,  and  utter  their 
dark  bodings  touching  the  future.  They  who  obtained 
their  subsistence  by  ministering  to  the  pleasures  of 
others,  are  now  the  first  to  suffer ;  for  there  are  none 
to  employ  their  services.  Streets,  which  but  a  little 
while  ago  resounded  with  notes  of  music  and  the  loud 
laughter  of  those  who  lived  to  pleasure,  are  now  dull 
and  deserted.  The  brilliant  shops  are  closed,  the 
fountains  forsaken,  the  Porticos  solitary,  or  they  are 
frequented  by  a  few  who  resort  to  them  chiefly  to  while 
away  some  of  the  melancholy  hours  that  hang  upon 
their  hands.  And  they  who  are  abroad  seem  not  like 
the  same  people.  Their  step  is  now  measured  and 
slow — the  head  bent — no  salutation  greets  the  passing 
stranger  or  acquaintance,  or  only  a  few  cold  words 
of  inquiry,  which  pass  from  cold  lips  into  ears  as  cold. 
Apathy — lethargy — stupor — seem  fast  settling  over  all. 
They  would  indeed  bury  all,  I  believe,  were  it  not  that 
the  parties  of  the  discontented  increase  in  number  and 
power,  which  compels  the  friends  of  the  Queen  to  keep 
upon  the  alert.  The  question  of  surrender  is  now  open 
ly  discussed.  '  It  is  useless,'  it  is  said,  '  to  hold  out 
longer.  Better  make  the  best  terms  we  can.  If  we 
save  the  city  by  an  early  capitulation  from  destruction, 
coming  off  with  our  lives  and  a  portion  of  our  goods, 


2ENOBIA.  161 

it  is  more  than  we  shall  get  if  the  act  be  much  longer 
postponed.  Every  day  of  delay  adds  to  our  weakness, 
while  it  adds  also  to  the  vexation  and  rage  of  the 
enemy)  who  the  more  and  longer  he  suffers,  will  he 
less  inclined  to  treat  us  with  indulgence.' 

These  may  be  said  to  have  reason  on  their  side,  but 
the  other  party  are  inflamed  with  national  pride  and 
devotion  to  Zenobia,  and  no  power  of  earth  is  sufficient 
to  bend  them.  They  are  the  principal  party  for  num- 
bers  ;  much  more  for  rank  and  political  power.  They 
will  hold  out  till  the  very  last  moment— till  it  is  re 
duced  to  a  choice  between  death  and  capitulation ; 
and,  on  the  part  of  the  Queen  and  the  great  spirits  of 
Palmyra,  death  would  be  their  unhesitating  choice, 
were  it  not  for  the  destruction  of  so  many  with  them. 
They  will  therefore,  until  the  last  loaf  of  bread  is 
divided,  keep  the  gates  shut;  then  throw  them  open, 
and  meet  the  terms,  whatever  they  may  be,  which  the 
power  of  the  conqueror  may  impose. 

A  formidable  conspiracy  has  been  detected,  and  the 
supposed  chiefs  of  it  seized  and  executed. 

The  design  was  to  secure  the  person  of  the  Queen, 
obtain  by  a  violent  assault  one  of  the  gates,  and  sally 
ing  out,  deliver  her  into  the  hands  of  the  Romans, 
who,  with  her  in  their  power,  could  immediately  put 
an  end  to  the  contest.  There  is  little  doubt  that  An- 
tiochus  was  privy  to  it,  although  those  who  suffered 
betrayed  him  not,  if  that  were  the  fact.  But  it  has 
been  urged  with  some  force  in  his  favor,  that  none 
who  suffered  would  have  felt  regard  enough  for  him 
VOL.  n.  14* 


162  Z  E  N  0  B  1  A  . 

to  have  hesitated  to  sacrifice  him,  if  by  doing  so  they 
could  have  saved  their  own  lives  or  others. 

Zenobia  displayed  her  usual  dauntless  courage,  her 
clemency,  and  her  severity.  The  attack  was  made 
upon  her,  surrounded  by  her  small  body-guard,  as  she 
was  returning  toward  evening  from  her  customary  visit 
of  observation  to  the  walls.  It  was  sudden,  violent, 
desperate ;  but  the  loyalty  and  bravery  of  the  guards 
was  more  tban  a  match  for  the  assassins,  aided  too  by 
the  powerful  arm  of  the  Queen  herself,  who  was  no 
idle  spectator  of  the  fray.  It  was  a  well-laid  plot, 
and  but  for  an  accidental  addition  which  was  made  at 
the  walls  to  the  Queen's  guard,  might  have  succeeded; 
for  the  attack  was  made  just  at  the  Persian  gate,  and 
the  keeper  of  the  gate  had  been  gained  over.  Had 
the  guard  been  overpowered  but  for  a  moment,  they 
would  have  sbot  the  gate  too  quickly  for  the  citizens  to 
have  roused  to  her  rescue.  Such  of  the  conspirators 
as  were  not  slain  upon  the  spot  were  secured.  Upon 
examination,  they  denied  the  participation  of  others 
than  themselves  in  the  attempt,  and  died,  such  of  them 
as  were  executed,  involving  none  in  their  ruin.  The 
Queen  would  not  permit  a  general  slaughter  of  them, 
though  urged  to  do  so.  '  The  ends  of  justice  and  the 
safety  of  the  city,'  she  said,  '  would  be  sufficiently 
secured,  if  an  example  were  made  of  such  as  seemed 
manifestly  the  chief  movers.  But  there  should  be  no 
indulgence  of  the  spirit  of  revenge.'  Those  accord 
ingly  were  beheaded,  the  others  imprisoned. 

While  these  long  and  weary  days  are  passing  away, 
Gracchus,  Fausta,  Calpurnius  and  myself  are  often  at 
the  palace  of  Zenobia.  The  Queen  is  gracious,  as  she 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  163 

ever  is,  but  laboring  under  an  anxiety  and  an  inward 
sorrow,  that  imprint  themselves  deeply  upon  her  coun 
tenance,  and  reveal  themselves  in  a  greater  reserve  of 
manner.  While  she  is  not  engaged  in  some  active 
service  she  is  buried  in  thought,  and  seems  like  one 
revolving  difficult  and  perplexing  questions.  Some 
times  she  breaks  from  these  moments  of  reverie  with 
some  sudden  question  to  one  or  another  of  those  around 
her,  from  which  we  can  obscurely  conjecture  the  sub 
jects  of  her  meditations.  With  Longinus,  Otho,  and 
Gracchus  she  passes  many  of  her  hours  in  deep  de 
liberation.  At  times,  when  apparently  nature  cries 
out  for  relief,  she  will  join  us  as  we  sit  diverting  our 
minds  by  conversation  upon  subjects  as  far  removed 
as  possible  from  the  present  distresses,  and  will,  as  for 
merly,  shed  the  light  of  her  penetrating  judgment  upon 
whatever  it  is  we  discuss.  But  she  soon  falls  back 
into  herself  again,  and  remains  silent  and  abstracted, 
or  leaves  us  and  retreats  to  her  private  apartments. 

Suddenly  the  Queen  has  announced  a  project  which 
fills  the  city  with  astonishment  at  its  boldness,  and 
once  more  lights  up  hope  within  the  bosoms  of  the 
most  desponding. 

Soon  as  her  own  mind  had  conceived  and  matured 
it,  her  friends  and  counsellors  were  summoned  to  re 
ceive  it  from  her,  and  pronounce  their  judgment. 
Would  that  I  could  set  before  you,  my  Curtius,  this 
wonderful  woman  as  she  stood  before  us  at  this  inter 
view.  Never  before  did  she  seem  so  great,  or  of  such 
transcendent  beauty — if  under  such  circumstances  such 
a  thought  may  be  expressed.  Whatever  of  melancholy 


164  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

had  for  so  long  a  time  shed  its  gloom  over  her  features 
was  now  gone.  The  native  fire  of  her  eye  was  restored 
and  doubled,  as  it  seemed,  by  the  thoughts  which  she 
was  waiting  to  express.  A  spirit  greater  than  even 
her  own,  appeared  to  animate  her,  and  to  breathe  an 
unwonted  majesty  into  her  form,  and  over  the  counte 
nance. 

She  greeted  all  with  the  warmth  of  a  friend,  and 
besought  them  to  hear  her  while  she  presented  a  view 
of  the  present  condition  of  their  affairs,  and  then  pro 
posed  what  she  could  not  but  believe  might  still  prove 
a  means  of  final  deliverance — -at  least,  it  might  deserve 
their  careful  consideration.  After  having  gone  over 
the  course  that  had  been  pursued  and  defended  it,  as 
that  alone  which  became  the  dignity  and  honor  of  a 
sovereign  and  independent  power,  she  proceeded  thus  : 

'  We  are  now,  it  is  obvious  to  all,  at  the  last  extrem 
ity.  If  no  new  outlet  be  opened  from  the  difficulties 
which  environ  us,  a  few  days  will  determine  our  fate. 
We  must  open  our  gates  and  take  such  mercy  as  our 
conquerors  may  bestow.  The  provision  laid  up  in  the 
public  granaries  is  nearly  exhausted.  Already  has  it 
been  found  necessary  greatly  to  diminish  the  amount 
of  the  daily  distribution.  Hope  in  any  power  of  our 
own  seems  utterly  extinct :  if  any  remain,  it  rests 
upon  foreign  interposition,  and  of  this  I  do  not  despair. 
I  still  rely  upon  Persia.  I  look  with  confidence  to  Sa 
por  for  further  and  yet  larger  succors.  In  the  former 
instance,  it  was  apprehended  by  many — I  confess  I 
shared  the  apprehension — that  there  would  be  on  the 
part  of  Persia  but  a  parade  of  friendship,  with  nothing 
of  reality.  But  you  well  know  it  was  far  otherwise. 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  165 

There  was  a  sincere  and  vigorous  demonstration  in  our 
behalf.  Persia  never  fought  a  better  field,  and  with 
slightly  larger  numbers  would  have  accomplished  our 
rescue.  My  proposition  is,  that  we  sue  again  at  the 
court  of  Sapor — no,  not  again,  for  the  first  was  a  free 
will  offering — and  that  we  fail  not,  I  would  go  myself 
my  own  ambassador,  and  solicit  what  so  solicited,  my 
life  upon  it,  will  not  be  refused.  You  well  know  that 
I  can  bear  with  me  jewels  gathered  during  a  long  reign 
of  such  value  as  to  plead  eloquently  in  my  cause,  since 
the  tithe  of  them  would  well  repay  the  Persian  for  all 
his  kingdom  might  suffer  for  our  sakes.' 

'  What  you  propose,  great  Queen,'  said  Longinus, 
as  Zenobia  paused,  '  agrees  with  your  whole  life.  But 
how  can  we,  who  hold  you  as  we  do,  sit  in  our  places 
and  allow  you  alone  to  encounter  the  dangers  of  such 
an  enterprise  ?  For  without  danger  it  cannot  be — from 
the  robber  of  the  desert,  from  the  Roman,  from  the 
Persian.  In  disguise  and  upon  the  road,  you  may 
suffer  the  common  fate  of  those  who  travel  where,  as 
now,  marauders  of  all  nations  swarm  ;  Sapor  may,  in 
his  capricious  policy,  detain  you  prisoner ;  Aurelian 
may  intercept.  Let  your  servants  prevail  with  you  to 
dismiss  this  thought  from  your  mind.  You  can  name 
no  one  of  all  this  company  who  will  not  plead  to  be 
your  substitute.' 

There  was  not  one  present  who  did  not  spring  upon 
his  feet,  and  express  his  readiness  to  undertake  the 
charge. 

*  I  thank  you  all,'  said  the  Queen,  '  but  claim,  in  this 
perhaps  the  last  act  of  my  reign,  to  be  set  free  in  your 
indulgence  to  hold  an  unobstructed  course.  If  in  your 


166  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

honest  judgments  you  confess  that  of  all  who  could 
appear  at  the  court  of  Sapor,  I  should  appear  there  as 
the  most  powerful  pleader  for  Palmyra,  it  is  all  I  ask 
you  to  determine.  Is  such  your  judgment  ? ' 

'  It  is,'  they  all  responded — '  without  doubt  it  is.' 

1  Then  am  I  resolved.  And  the  enterprise  itself  you 
judge  wise  and  of  probable  success  ? ' 

'  We  do.  The  reasons  are  just  upon  which  it  is 
founded.  It  is  greatly  conceived,  and  the  gods  giving 
you  safe  conduct  to  Sapor,  we  cannot  doubt  a  happy 
result.' 

'  Then  all  that  remains  is,  to  contrive  the  manner  of 
escape  from  the  city  and  through  the  Roman  camp.' 

'  There  is  first  one  thing  more,'  said  the  Princess 
Julia,  suddenly  rising  from  her  mother's  side,  but  with 
a  forced  and  trembling  courage,  '  which  remains  for  me 
to  do.  If  there  appear  any  want  of  maidenly  reserve 
in  what  I  say,  let  the  cause,  good  friends,  for  which  I 
speak  and  act,  be  my  excuse.  It  is  well  known  to  you 
who  are  familiar  with  the  councils  of  the  state,  that  not 
many  months  past  Persia  sought  through  me  an  alliance 
with  Palmyra.  But  in  me,  you,  my  mother  and  Queen, 
have  hitherto  found  an  uncomplying  daughter — and 
you,  Fathers,  a  self-willed  Princess.  I  now  seek  what 
before  I  have  shunned.  Although  I  know  not  the 
Prince  Hormisdas — report  speaks  worthily  of  him — 
but  of  him  I  think  not — yet  if  by  the  offer  of  myself 
I  could  now  help  the  cause  of  my  country,  the  victim 
is  ready  for  the  altar.  Let  Zenobia  bear  with  her  not 
only  the  stones  torn  from  her  crown,  but  this  which 
she  so  often  has  termed  her  living  jewel,  and  if  the 
others,  first  proffered,  fail  to  reach  the  Persian's  heart, 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A .  167 

then,  but  not  till  then,  add  the  other  to  the  scale. 
If  it  weigh  to  buy  deliverance  and  prosperity  to  Pal 
myra — though  I  can  never  be  happy — yet  I  shall  be 
happy  if  the  cause  of  happiness  to  you.' 

'  My  noble  child  ! '  said  Zenobia,  '  I  cannot  have  so 
startled  the  chiefs  of  Palmyra  by  a  new  and  unthought- 
of  project,  as  I  am  now  amazed  in  my  turn.  I  dreamed 
not  of  this.  But  I  cannot  hinder  you  in  your  purpose. 
It  ensures  success  to  your  country  ;  and  to  be  the  in 
strument  of  that,  will  be  a  rich  compensation  for  even 
the  largest  sacrifice  of  private  affections.' 

The  counsellors  and  senators  who  were  present  ex 
pressed  a  great,  and  I  doubt  not  sincere  unwillingness 
that  so  dangerous  a  service  should  be  undertaken  by 
those  whom  they  so  loved,  and  whom  beyond  all  others 
they  would  shield  with  their  lives  from  the  very  shadow 
of  harm.  But  they  were  overcome  by  ihe  determined 
spirit  both  of  the  Queen  and  Julia,  and  by  their  own 
secret  conviction  that  it  was  the  only  act  in  the  power 
of  mortals  by  which  the  existence  of  the  empire  and 
city  could  be  preserved. 

At  this  point  of  the  interview,  Calpurnius,  whom  we 
had  missed,  entered,  and  learning  what  had  passed, 
announced  that  by  a  channel  not  to  be  mistrusted,  he 
had  received  intelligence  of  a  sudden  rising  in  Persia, 
of  the  assassination  of  Sapor,  and  the  elevation  of 
Hormisdas  to  the  throne  of  his  father.  This  imparted 
to  all  the  liveliest  pleasure,  and  seemed  to  take  away 
from  the  project  of  the  Queen  every  remaining  source 
of  disquietude  and  doubt.  Calpurnius  at  the  same 
moment  was  besought,  and  offered  himself  to  serve  as 
the  Queen's  companion  and  guide.  The  chosen  friend 


168  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

of  Hormisdas,  and  whose  friendship  he  had  not  forfeited 
by  his  flight — no  one  could  so  well  as  he  advocate  her 
cause  with  the  new  king. 

'But  how  is  it,'  inquired  Longinus,  *  that  you  obtain 
foreign  intelligence,  the  city  thus  beset  ? ' 

'  It  may  well  be  asked,'  replied  Calpurnius.  '  It  is 
through  the  intelligence  and  cunning  of  a  Jew  well 
known  in  Palmyra,  and  throughout  the  world  I  believe, 
called  Isaac.  By  him  was  I  rescued  from  Persian 
captivity,  and  through  him  have  I  received  letters 
thence,  ever  since  the  city  has  been  besieged.  He  is 
acquainted  with  a  subterranean  passage — in  the  time 
of  Trajan,  he  has  informed  me,  a  public  conduit,  but 
long  since  much  choked  and  dry — by  which  one  may 
pass  from  the  city  under  and  beyond  the  lines  of  the 
Roman  intrenchments,  emerging  into  a  deep  ravine  or 
fissure,  grown  thickly  over  with  vines  and  olives. 
Once  it  was  of  size  sufficient  to  admit  an  elephant  with 
his  rider;  now,  he  says,  has  it  become  so  obstructed, 
and  in  some  places  so  fallen  in,  that  it  is  with  difficulty 
that  a  dromedary  of  but  the  common  size  can  force  his 
way  through.' 

*  Through  this  then  the  Queen  may  effect  her  escape,' 
said  Longinus. 

'  With  perfect  ease  and  security,'  rejoined  Calpurnius. 
'  At  the  outlet,  Isaac  shall  be  in  waiting  with  the  fleetest 
dromedaries  of  the  royal  stables.' 

'  We  are  satisfied,'  said  Longinus;  Met  it  be  as  you 
say.  The  gods  prosper  the  pious  service  ! ' 

So  ended  the  conversation. 

Of  the  ancient  aqueduct  or  conduit,  you  have  already 
heard  from  me ;  it  is  the  same  by  which  Isaac  has 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  169 

transmitted  my  late  letters  to  Portia — which  I  trust  you 
have  received  and  read.  To  Portia  alone — be  not 
offended — do  I  pour  out  my  whole  soul.  From  her 
learn  more  of  what  relates  to  the  Princess. 

I  returned  from  the  palace  of  Zenobia  overwhelmed 
with  a  thousand  painful  sensations.  But  this  I  need 
not  say. 

Fausta,upon  learning  the  determination  of  the  Queen, 
which  had  been  communicated  not  even  to  her,  ex 
claimed — '  There,  Lucius,  I  have  always  told  you  Pal 
myra  brought  forth  women  !  Where  in  the  wide  world 
shall  two  be  found  to  match  Zenobia  and  Julia  ?  But 
when  is  the  time  fixed  for  the  flight?' 

'  To-morrow  night.' 

'  I  will  to  the  palace.  These  may  be  the  last  hours 
permitted  by  the  gods  to  our  friendship.  I  must  not 
lose  one  of  them.' 

I  went  not  there  again. 

Late  on  the  evening  of  the  following  day  Fausta 
returned — her  countenance  betraying  what  she  had 
suffered  in  parting  from  those  two,  her  bosom  friends. 
It  was  long  ere  she  could  possess  herself  so  far  as  to 
give  to  Gracchus  and  myself  a  narrative  of  what  had 
occurred.  To  do  it,  asked  but  few  words. 

*  We  have  passed  the  time,'  she  said  at  length,  '  as 
you  might  suppose  those  would  about  to  be  separated — 
forever ;  yes,  I  feel  that  I  have  seen  them  for  the  last 
time.  It  is  like  a  conviction  inspired  by  the  gods. 
We  did  naught  till  the  hour  of  attiring  for  the  flight 
arrived,  but  sit,  look  upon  each  other,  embrace,  and 
weep.  Not  that  Zenobia,  always  great,  lost  the  true 
command  of  herself,  or  omitted  aught  that  should  be 
VOL.  n.  15 


170  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

done  ;  but  that  she  was  a  woman,  and  a  mother,  and  a 
friend,  as  well  as  a  Queen  and  a  divinity.  But  I  can 
say  no  more.' 

*  Yet  one  thing,'  she  suddenly  resumed;  ' alas !  I  had 
well  nigh  forgotten  it — it  should  have  been  said  first. 
What  think  you  ?  the  Indian  slave,  Sindarina,  was  to 
accompany  the  Queen,  but  at  the  hour  of  departure  she 
was  missing.  Her  chamber  was  empty — the  Arabian 
disguise,  in  which  all  were  to  be  arrayed,  lying  on  her 
bed — she  herself  to  be  found  neither  there  nor  any 
where  within  the  palace.  Another  of  the  Queen's 
women  was  chosen  in  her  place.  What  make  you  of 
it?' 

'  Treason  ! — treachery!'  cried  Gracchus,  and  spring 
ing  from  his  seat,  shouted  for  a  horse. 

'  The  gods  forgive  me,'  cried  the  afflicted  Gracchus, 
'  that  this  has  been  forgotten !  Why,  why  did  I  not 
lay  to  heart  the  hints  which  you  dropped  ! ' 

'  In  very  truth,'  I  replied,  '  they  were  almost  too 
slight  to  build  even  a  suspicion  upon.  The  Queen 
heeded  them  not — and  I  myself  had  dismissed  them 
from  my  mind  not  less  than  yourself.' 

'  Not  a  moment  is  to  be  lost,'  said  Gracchus;  '  the 
slave  must  be  found,  and  all  whom  we  suspect  seized.' 

The  night  was  passed  in  laborious  search,  both  of 
the  slave  and  Antiochus.  The  whole  city  was  abroad 
in  a  common  cause.  All  the  loose  companions  of 
Antiochus  and  the  young  princes  were  taken  and 
imprisoned ;  the  suspected  leaders  in  the  affair,  after  a 
scrutinizing  search  and  public  proclamation,  could  not 
be  found.  The  inference  was  clear,  agonizing  as  clear, 
that  the  Queen's  flight  had  been  betrayed. 


ZSNOBIA.  17) 

Another  day  has  revealed  the  whole.  Isaac,  who 
acted  as  guide  through  the  conduit,  and  was  to  serve 
in  the  same  capacity  till  the  party  were  secure  within 
a  Persian  fortress,  not  far  from  the  banks  of  the  Eu 
phrates,  has,  by  a  messenger,  a  servant  of  the  palace, 
found  means  to  convey  a  relation  of  what  befel  after 
leaving  Palmyra. 

'  Soon,'  he  says,  *  as  the  shades  of  evening  fell,  \ 
the  Queen,  the  Princess  Julia,  Nichomachus,  a  slave,  \ 
and  Calpurnius,  arrayed  in  the  garb  of  Arabs  of  the 
desert,  together  with  a  guard  of  ten  soldiers,  selected 
for  their  bravery  and  strength,  met  by  different  routes 
at  the  mouth  of  the  old  conduit.  So  noble  a  company 
had  I  never  before  the  charge  of.  Thou  wouldst  never 
have  guessed  the  Queen  through  the  veil  of  her  out 
landish  garment.  She  became  it  well.  Not  one  was 
more  a  man  than  she.  For  the  Princess,  a  dull  eye  ' 
would  have  seen  through  her.  Entering  a  little  way 
in  "utter  darkness,  I  then  bid  them  stand  while  I  lighted 
torches.  The  Queen  was  near  me  the  while,  and 
asked  me  the  length  of  the  passage,  and  whether  the 
walls  were  of  that  thickness  as  to  prevent  the  voice 
from  being  heard  above. 

'  "  Till  we  reach  one  particular  spot,  where  the  arch 
is  partly  fallen  in,"  I  said,  "we  may  use  our  tongues 
as  freely  and  as  loud  as  we  please ;  at  that  place  there 
will  be  need  of  special  caution,  as  it  is  directly  beneath 
the  Roman  intrenchments.  Of  our  approach  thereto 
[  will  give  timely  warning." 

'  I  took  occasion  to  say,  that  I  was  sorry  the  Queen 
of  Palmyra  should  be  compelled  to  pass  through  so 
gloomy  a  cavern,  but  doubtless  he  who  was  with 


172  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

Deborah  and  Judith  would  not  forsake  her  who  was  so 
fast  a  friend  to  his  people,  and  who,  if  rumor  might  be 
believed,  was  even  herself  one  of  them.  This,  Roman, 
you  will  doubtless  think  bold  ;  but  how  could  one  who 
was  full  refrain  ?  I  even  added,  "  Fear  not ;  he  who 
watches  over  Judah  and  Israel,  will  not  fail  to  appear 
for  one  by  whose  arm  their  glories  are  to  be  restored." 
The  Queen  at  that  smiled,  and  if  a  countenance  may 
be  read,  which  I  hold  it  can,  as  well  as  a  book,  it  spoke 
favorable  things  for  Jerusalem. 

'When  our  torches  were  kindled,  we  went  on  our 
way ;  a  narrow  way  and  dark.  We  went  in  silence 
too,  for  I  quickly  discerned  that  minds  and  hearts  were 
too  busy  with  themselves  and  their  own  sorrows  and 
fears  to  choose  to  be  disturbed.  Ah,  Roman,  how  many 
times  harder  the  lot  of  the  high  than  the  low!  When 
we  drew  nigh  to  the  fissure  in  the  arch,  the  torches 
were  again  extinguished,  and  we  proceeded  at  a  snail's 
pace  and  with  a  hyena's  foot  while  we  were  passing 
within  a  few  feet  of  the  then,  as  I  doubted  not,  sleeping 
Romans.  As  we  came  beneath  the  broken  and  open 
part,  I  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  voices.  Soldiers 
were  above  conversing.  As  we  paused  through  ap 
prehension,  a  few  words  were  distinctly  heard. 

'  "  The  times  will  not  bear  it,"  muttered  one.  "  'T  is 
a  vain  attempt." 

*  "  His  severity  is  cruel,"  said  another.  "  Gods  ! 
when  before  was  it  heard  of,  that  a  soldier,  and  such  a 
one,  for  what  every  one  does  whom  chance  favors, 
should  be  torn  limb  from  limb  ?  The  trees  that  wrench 
ed  Stilcho  asunder,  ere  they  grow  too  stiff,  may  serve 
a  turn  on  '  Hand-to-his- Sword'  himself.  He  will  fatten 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  173 

on  these  starved  citizens  when  he  climbs  over  their 
walls." 

*  "  0  no,  by  Jupiter ! "  said  the  first,  "  it  is  far  like 
lier  he  will  let  them  off,  as  he  did  at  Tyana,  and  we 
lose  our  sport.     It  is  his  own  soldiers'  blood  he  loves." 

'  "  He  may  yet  learn,"  replied  the  other,  "  that  sol 
diers  wear  weapons  for  one  purpose  as  well  as  another. 
Hark  !  what  noise  was  that?" 

'  "  It  was  but  some  rat  at  work  within  this  old  arch. 
Come,  let  us  to  bed." 

*  They  moved  away,  and  we,  breathing  again,  passed 
along,  and  soon  re-lighted  our  torches. 

'  After  walking  a  weary  distance  from  this  point,  and 
encountering  many  obstacles,  we  at  length  reached  the 
long-desired  termination.  The  dromedaries  were  in 
readiness,  and  mounting  them  without  delay,  we  as 
cended  the  steep  sides  of  the  ravine,  and  then  at  a  rapid 
pace  sought  the  open  plains.  When  they  were  attained, 
I  considered  that  we  were  out  of  all  danger  from  the 
Romans,  and  had  only  to  apprehend  the  ordinary  dan 
gers  of  this  route  during  a  time  of  war,  when  freebooters 
of  all  the  neighboring  tribes  are  apt  to  abound.  "  Here," 
I  said  to  the  Queen,  "we  will  put  our  animals  to  their 
utmost  speed,  as  the  way  is  plain  and  smooth — having 
regard  only,"  I  added,  "  to  your  and  the  Princess's 
strength." — "  On,  on,  in  the  name  of  the  gods  ! "  said 
they  both;  "we  can  follow  as  fast  as  you  s-hall  lead." 
And  on  we  flew  with  the  speed  of  the  wind.  The 
Queen's  animals  were  like  spirits  of  the  air,  with  such 
amazing  fleetness  and  sureness  of  foot  did  they  shoot 
over  the  surface  of  the  earth.  The  way  was  wholly 
our  own.  We  met  none  ;  we  saw  none.  Thrice  we 

VOL.    II. 


174 


ZE  N  0  BI A 


paused  to  relieve  those  not  accustomed  to  such  speed, 
or  to  the  peculiar  motion  of  this  animal.  But  at  each 
resting  place,  the  Queen  with  impatience  hastened  us 
away,  saying,  that  "  rest  could  be  better  had  at  once 
when  we  had  crossed  the  river ;  and  once  upon  the 
other  bank,  and  we  were  safe." 

*  The  first  flush  of  morning  was  upon  the  sky  as  we 
came  within  sight  of  the  valley  of  the  Euphrates.  The 
river  was  itself  seen  faintly  gleaming  as  we  wound 
down  the  side  of  a  gentle  hill.  The  country  here  was 
broken,  as  it  had  been  for  many  of  the  last  miles  we 
had  rode — divided  by  low  ridges,  deep  ravines,  and 
stretches  of  wood  and  bush.  So  that  to  those  ap 
proaching  the  banks  in  the  same  general  direction, 
many  distinct  paths  offered  themselves.  It  was  here, 
0  Piso,  just  as  we  reached  the  foot  of  this  little  hill, 
riding  more  slowly  by  reason  of  the  winding  road,  that 
my  quick  ear  caught  at  a  distance  the  sounds  of  other 
hoofs  upon  the  ground  beside  our  own.  My  heart 
sank  within  me — a  sudden  faintness  spread  over  my 
limbs.  But  at  the  instant  I  gave  the  alarm  to  our 
troop,  and  at  greatest  risk  of  life  and  limb  we  put  our 
beasts  to  their  extreme  speed,  and  dashed  toward  the 
river.  I  still,  as  we  rode,  turning  my  ear  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  sound,  heard  with  distinctness  the  clatter 
of  horses' hoofs.  Our  beasts  were  dromedaries;  in 
that  lay  my  hope.  Two  boats  awaited  us  among  the 
rushes  on  the  river's  bank,  in  the  keeping  of  those  who 
had  been  sent  forward  for  that  purpose  ;  and  off  against 
them,  upon  the  other  side  of  the  stream,  lay  a  small 
Persian  village  and  fortress.  Once  off  in  the  boats  but 
ever  so  short  a  distance,  and  we  were  safe.  On  we 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  175 

flew,  and  on  I  was  each  moment  conscious  came  pur 
suers,  whoever  they  might  be.  We  reached  the  river's 
edge. — "  Quick  !  for  your  lives,"  I  cried.  "  The  Queen, 
the  Princess,  and  four  men  in  this  boat ;  the  packages 
in  the  other."  In  a  moment  and  less  than  that,  we 
were  in  our  boat,  a  troop  of  horse  at  the  same  instant 
sweeping  like  a  blast  of  the  desert  down  the  bank  of 
the  river.  We  shot  into  the  stream ;  but  ere  the  other 
could  gain  the  water,  the  Romans,  as  we  now  too 
plainly  saw  them  to  be,  were  upon  them.  A  brief  but 
desperate  strife  ensued.  The  Romans  were  five  for 
one  of  tbe  others,  and  quickly  putting  them  to  the 
sword,  sprang  into  their  boat. 

*  "  Pull !  pull ! "  cried  the  Queen,  the  first  words  she 
had  uttered,  "  for  your  lives  and  Palmyra  !  "      They 
gained  upon  us.     We  had  six  oars,  they  eight.     But 
the  strength  of  three  seemed  to  nerve  the  arm  of  Cal- 
purnius, 

'  ^mjBmaaJ_gods, ! "  cried  he,  in  inexpressible  agony, 
"  they  near  us  ! "  and  straining  with  redoubled  energy 
his  oar  snapped,  and  the  boat  whirled  from  her  course. 

*  "  All  is  lost ! "  ejaculated  Zenobia. 

*  A  Roman  voice  was  now  heard,  "  Yield  you,  and 
your  lives  are  safe." 

*  "  Never,"  cried  Calpurnius,  and  as  the  Roman  boat 
struck  against  ours,  he  raised  his  broken  oar,  and  aim 
ing  at  him  who  had  spoken,  lost  his  balance  and  plunged 
headlong  into  the  stream. 

'  "  Save  him — save  him  ! "  cried  the  Queen,  but  they 
heeded  her  not.  "  It  is  vain  to  contend,"  she  cried 
out  again ;  "  we  yield,  but  save  the  life  of  him  who 
has  fallen." 


176 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A 


'  The  light  was  yet  not  sufficient  to  see  but  to  a  little 
distance.  Nothing  was  visible  upon  the  smooth  surface 
of  the  water,  nor  any  sound  heard. 

'  "  His  own  rash  fury  has  destroyed  him,"  said  the 
Roman,  who  we  now  could  discern  bore  the  rank  of 
Centurion. 

'  "  We  seek,"  said  he,  turning  toward  where  the 
Queen  sat,  "  we  seek  Zenobia,  Queen  of  Palmyra." 

'  "  I  am  Zenobia,"  said  the  Queen. 

'  "  The  gods  be  praised  therefor  ! "  rejoined  the  Cen 
turion.  "  Our  commands  are  ta  bear  you  to  the  tent 
of  Aurelian." 

*  "  Do  with  me  as  you  list,"  replied  the  Queen  ;  "  1 
am  in  your  power." 

'  "  To  the  shore,"  exclaimed  the  Roman ;  and  our 
boat,  fastened  to  the  other, was  soon  at  the  place  whence 
but  a  moment  before  it  had  parted. 

'"Who  are  these?"  asked  the  Centurion,  as  we 
reached  the  shore,  pointing  to  the  Princess,  and  the 
attendant  slave  and  secretary.  "  Our  orders  extend 
only  to  the  person  of  the  Queen." 

'  "  Divide  them  not,"  I  said,  willing  to  spare  the 
Queen  the  bandying  of  words  with  a  Roman  soldier, 
"  they  are  of  the  Queen's  family.  They  are  a  part  of 
herself.  If  thou  takest  one  take  all  to  thy  Emperor." 

'  "  So  be  it ;  and  now  to  your  horses,  and  once  more 
over  the  plain.  It  shall  go  hard,  but  that  what  we 
carry  with  us  will  make  our  fortune  with  Aurelian." 

'  Saying  this,  the  whole  troop  formed,  placing  Zenobia 
and  Julia  in  the  midst,  and  winding  up  the  banks  of 
the  river  disappeared. 

'  Such,  O  unhappy  Piso,  was  this  disastrous  night. 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  177 

Surely  all  was  done  on  our  part  to  secure  a  successful 
issue.  I  can  discern  no  defect  nor  fault.  We  could 
not  have  been  more  fleet.  Swifter  beasts  never  trod 
the  sands  of  Arabia.  What  then  ?  Hath  there  not 
been,  think  you,  foul  play  ?  Whence  got  the  Romans 
knowledge,  not  only  of  our  flight,  but  of  the  very  spot 
for  which  we  aimed  ?  I  doubt  not  there  has  been 
treachery — and  that  too  of  the  very  color  of  hell.  Look 
to  it,  and  let  not  the  guilty  go  free. 

'  One  word  touching  thy  brother.  Despond  not.  I 
cannot  think  that  he  is  lost.  We  were  but  a  furlong 
from  the  shore.  My  belief  is,  that  seeing  the  capture 
of  the  Queen  was  certain,  and  that  to  him,  if  taken  with 
her  in  arms  against  his  country,  death  was  inevitable, 
he,  when  he  fell,  rose  again  at  a  safe  distance,  and  will 
yet  be  found. 

'  Thu,.se  things  I  send  in  haste  by  a  returning  servant 
of  the  palace,  I  remaining  both  to  secure  the  dromeda 
ries  now  wandering  at  will  along  the  banks  of  the  river, 
and  to  search  diligently  for  Calpurnius,  whom  I  trust 
to  bear  back  with  me  to  Palmyra.' 

Here,  my  Curtius.  was  food  for  meditation  and  grief 
— the  renowned  Queen  of  this  brilliant  capital  and 
kingdom,  so  late  filling  a  throne  that  drew  the  admira 
tion  of  the  world,  sitting  there  in  a  proud  magnificence 
that  cast  into  shade  Persia  itself,  is  in  one  short  night 
shorn  of  all  her  power;  a  captive  at  the  mercy  of  a 
cruel  foe ;  Julia  also  a  captive ;  my  brother,  so  late 
redeemed — as  I  cannot  but  suppose — dead.  I  need  not 
nor  can  I  tell  you  with  what  emotions  I  read  the  fatal 
letter.  The  same  messenger  who  delivered  it  to  me 


178  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

had  spread  through  the  city  the  news  of  the  Queen's 
captivity.  What  related  to  Calpurnius  I  determined 
to  conceal  from  Fausta,  since  it  was  at  least  possible 
that  by  communicating  it  I  might  cause  a  useless  suf 
fering. 

Fausta,  upon  learning  the  horrors  of  the  night,  which 
she  first  did  from  the  outcries  and  lamentations  in  the 
streets,  seemed  more  like  one  dead  than  alive.  She 
could  not  weep ;  the  evil  was  too  great  for  tears.  And 
there  being  no  other  way  in  which  to  give  vent  to  the 
grief  that  wrung  her  soul  in  every  feeling  and  affection, 
I  trembled  lest  reason  should  be  hurled  from  its  seat. 
She  wandered  from  room  to  room,  her  face  of  the  hue 
of  death — but  indicating  life  enough  in  its  intense 
expression  of  inward  pain — and  speechless,  save  that 
at  intervals  in  a  low  tone,  '  Zenobia !  Palmyra!'  fell 
from  her  scarcely  moving  lips.  To  Gracchus  and  my 
self  essaying  to  divert  her  from  thoughts  that  seemed 
to  prey  upon  her  very  life,  she  said,  '  Leave  me  to 
wrestle  alone  with  my  grief;  it  is  the  way  to  strength. 
I  do  not  doubt  that  I  shall  find  it.' 

'  She  is  right,'  said  Gracchus  ;  *  to  overcome  she 
must  fight  her  own  battle.  Our  aid  but  ministers  to 
her  weakness.' 

It  was  not  long  before  she  rejoined  us,  tears  having 
brought  relief  to  her  over-burdened  heart. 
,  Her  first  inquiry  now  was  for  Calpurnius.  '  I  have 
feared  to  ask,  for  if  he  too  is  captive,  I  know  that  he 
is  lost.  Now  I  can  hear  and  bear  all.  How  is  it, 
Lucius?' 

I  answered,  that '  he  was  not  a  captive,  so  much  was 
known ;  but  where  he  now  was,  or  what  had  befallen 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  179 

him,  was  not  known.  I  had  reason  to  believe  that  he 
xvould  find  his  way  back  through  the  guidance  of  Isaac 
to  the  city.' 

*  Alas !  I  read  in  your  words  his  fate.  But  I  will 
not  urge  you  farther.  I  will  live  upon  all  the  hope  I 
can  keep  alive.  Yet  it  is  not  the  death  of  Calpurnius 
— nor  yet  of  Zenobia — nor  Julia — that  wrings  the  soul 
and  saps  its  life,  like  this  bitter,  bitter  disappointment, 
this  base  treason  of  Antiochus.  To  be  so  near  the 
summit  of  our  best  hopes,  only  to  be  cast  down  into 
this  deep  abyss — that  is  the  sting  in  our  calamity  that 
shoots  deepest,  and  for  which  there  is  no  cure.  Is  there 
no  other  way,  father,  in  which  we  can  explain  the  cap 
ture  of  the  Queen  ?  Accident — could  it  not  be  accident 
that  threw  the  troop  of  Aurelian  in  their  way  ? ' 

'I  fear  not,'  said  Gracchus.  'When  we  add  what 
rumor  has  heretofore  reported  of  the  aims  of  Antiochus, 
but  which  we  have  all  too  much  contemned  him  to 
believe  him  capable  of,  to  what  has  now  occurred,  I 
think  we  cannot  doubt  that  he  is  the  author  of  the  evil, 
seducing  into  his  plot  the  Queen's  slave,  through  whom 
he  received  intelligence  of  every  plan  and  movement.' 

'Ah,  cruel  treachery  !  How  can  one  join  together 
the  sweet  innocent  face  of  Sindarina  and  such  deep 
hypocrisy  !  Antiochus  surely  must  have  perverted  her 
by  magic  arts.  Of  that  I  am  sure.  But  what  fruit 
can  Antiochus  hope  his  treason  shall  bear  for  him  ? 
Can  he  think  that  Palmyra  will  endure  his  rule  ? ' 

'  That,'  replied  Gracchus,  '  must  be  his  hope.  The 
party  of  the  discontented  we  well  know  to  be  large ; 
upon  them  he  thinks  he  may  rely.  Then  his  treason 
recommending  him  to  Aurelian,  he  builds  upon  his 


180  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

power  to  establish  him  upon  the  throne,  and  sustain 
him  there  till  his  own  strength  shall  have  grown,  so 
that  he  can  stand  alone.  That  the  city  will  surrender 
upon  the  news  of  the  Queen's  captivity,  he  doubtless 
calculates  upon  as  certain.' 

4  May  his  every  hope,'  cried  Fausta,  '  be  blasted,  and 
a  little  of  the  misery  he  has  poured  without  stint  into 
our  hearts  wring  his  own,  and  when  he  cries  for  mercy, 
may  he  find  none  ! ' 

*  One  hope,'   I  said  here,  '  if  I  know  aught  of  the 
nature  of  Aurelian,  and  upon  which  he  must  chiefly 
found  his  project,  will  sink  under  him  to  his  shame 
and  ruin.' 

*  What  mean  you  ?'  said  Fausta  eagerly. 

1  His  belief  that  Aurelian  will  reward  baseness  though 
to  an  enemy.  He  never  did  it  yet,  and  he  cannot  do 
it.  Were  there  within  the  thick  skull  of  Antiochus 
the  brains  of  a  foolish  ostrich,  he  would  have  read  in 
the  fate  of  Heraclamrnon,  the  rich  traitor  of  Tyana,  his 
own.  If  I  err  not,  he  has  indiscreetly  enough  thrust 
himself  into  a  lion's  den.  If  Aurelian  is  fierce,  his  is 
the  grand  and  terrific  ferocity  of  the  king  of  beasts.' 

*  May  it  be   so  ! '    said   Fausta.     '  There  were  no 
providence  in  the  gods  did  such  villany  escape  punish 
ment,  still  less,  did  it  grow  great.     But  if  Aurelian  is 
such  as  you  describe  him,  0  then  is  there  not  reason 
in  the  belief  that  he  will  do  gently  by  her  ?     Were  it 
compatible  with   greatness   or  generosity — and  these, 
you  say,  belong  to  the  Emperor — to  take  revenge  upon 
an  enemy,  thrown  by  such  means  into  his  power  ?  and 
such  an  enemy  ?  and  that  too  a  woman  ?  Julia  too  !    O 
immortal  gods,  how  bitter  past  drinking  is  this  cup  ! ' 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  181 

'  Yet  must  you.  must  we,  not  lean  too  confidently 
upon  the  dispositions  of  Aurelian.  He  is  subject, 
though  supreme,  to  the  state,  nay,  and  in  some  sense 
to  the  army ;  and  what  he  might  gladly  do  of  his  own 
free  and  generous  nature,  policy  and  the  contrary 
wishes  and  sometimes  requisitions  of  his  troops,  or  of 
the  people,  compel  him  to  forbear.  The  usage  of  Rome 
toward  captive  princes  has  been,  and  is,  cruel.  Yet 
the  Emperor  does  much  to  modify  it,  giving  it,  accord 
ing  to  his  own  temper,  a  more  or  less  savage  character. 
And  Aurelian  has  displayed  great  independence  in 
his  acts,  both  of  people  and  soldiers.  There  is  much 
ground  for  hope — but  it  must  not  pass  into  confident 
expectation.' 

'  You,  Lucius,  in  former  days  have  known  Aurelian 
well,  before  fortune  raised  him  to  this  high  eminence. 
You  say  you  were  his  friend.  Could  you  not — ' 

'  No.  I  fear  with  scarce  any  hope  of  doing  good. 
My  residence  here  during  all  these  troubles  will,  I  doubt 
not,  raise  suspicions  in  the  mind  of  Aurelian  which  it 
will  not  be  easy  to  allay.  But  whenever  I  shall  have 
it  in  my  power  to  present  myself  before  him,  I  shall  not 
fail  to  press  upon  him  arguments  which,  if  he  shall  act 
freely,  cannot  I  think  but  weigh  with  him.' 

*  Ought  not  the  city  now,'  said  Fausta,  addressing 
Gracchus,  *  to  surrender,  and,  if  it  can  do  no  better, 
throw  itself  upon  the  mercy  of  Aurelian  ?  I  see  not 
now  what  can  be  gained  by  longer  resistance,  and  would 
not  a  still  protracted  refusal  to  capitulate,  and  when  it 
must  be  without  the  faintest  expectation  of  ultimate 
success,  tend  merely  and  with  certainty  to  exasperate 
Aurelian,  and  perhaps  embitter  him  toward  the  Queen  ? ' 

VOL.  II.  16 


182  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

'  I  can  scarcely  doubt  that  it  would,*  replied  Grac 
chus.  *  The  city  ought  to  surrender.  Soon  as  the 
first  flood  of  grief  has  spent  itself,  must  we  hasten  to 
accomplish  it  if  possible.  Longinus,  to  whom  will 
now  be  entrusted  the  chief  power,  will  advocate  it  I  am 
sure — so  will  Otho,  Seleucus,  Gabrayas  ;  but  the  army 
will,  I  fear,  be  opposed  to  it,  and  will,  more  through  a 
certain  pride  of  their  order  than  from  any  principle, 
incline  to  hold  out. — It  is  time  I  sought  Longinus.' 

He  departed  in  search  of  the  Greek.  I  went  forth 
into  the  streets  to  learn  the  opinions  and  observe  the 
behavior  of  the  people. 

The  shades  of  night  are  around  me — the  palace  is 
still — the  city  sleeps.  I  resume  my  pen  to  add  a  few 
words  to  this  epistle,  already  long,  but  they  are  words 
that  convey  so  much  that  I  cannot  but  add  them  for  my 
own  pleasure  not  less  than  yours.  They  are  in  brief 
these, — Calpurnius  is  alive  and  once  again  returned  to 
us.  The  conjecture  of  Isaac  was  a  description  of  the 
truth.  My  brother,  knowing  well  that  if  apprehended 
his  death  were  certain,  had  in  the  outset  resolved,  if 
attacked,  rather  to  provoke  his  death,  and  insure  it  in 
the  violence  of  a  conflict,  than  be  reserved  for  the  axe 
of  the  Roman  executioner.  But  in  the  short  moment 
in  which  he  fell  headlong  into  the  river,  it  flashed 
across  his  mind — '  The  darkness  favors  my  escape — I 
can  reach  the  shore  ;'  so  swimming  a  short  distance 
below  the  surface,  falling  down  with  the  stream  and 
softly  rising,  concealed  himself  among  the  reeds  upon 
the  margin  of  the  stream.  Finding  the  field  in  a  short 
time  wholly  in  possession  of  Isaac,  he  revealed  himself 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  183 

and  joined  him,  returning'  to  the  city  as  soon  as  the 
darkness  of  the  night  permitted.  Here  is  a  little  gleam 
of  light  breaking  through  Fausta's  almost  solid  gloom. 
A  smile  has  once  more  played  over  her  features. 

In  the  evening  after  Calpurnius's  return,  she  tried 
her  harp,  but  the  sounds  it  gave  out  only  seemed  to 
increase  her  sorrow,  and  she  threw  it  from  her. 

'  Music,'  said  Gracchus, '  is  in  its  nature  melancholy, 
and  how,  my  child,  can  you  think  to  forget  or  stifle 
grief  by  waking  the  strings  of  your  harp,  whose  tones, 
of  all  other  instruments,  are  the  most  melancholy? 
And  yet  sometimes  sadness  seeks  sadness,  and  finds 
in  it  its  best  relief.  But  now,  Fausta,  rather  let  sleep 
be  your  minister  and  nurse.* 

So  we  parted.     Farewell. 


184  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A 


LETTER    XV. 

IT  were  a  vain  endeavor,  my  Curtius,  to  attempt  to 
describe  the  fever  of  indignation,  and  rage,  and  grief, 
that  burned  in  the  bosoms  of  this  unhappy  people,  as 
soon  as  it  was  known  that  their  Queen  was  a  captive 
in  the  hands  of  the  Eomans.  Those  imprisoned  upon 
suspicion  of  having  been  concerned  in  her  betrayal 
would  have  been  torn  from  their  confinement,  and 
sacrificed  to  the  wrath  of  the  citizens,  in  the  first  hours 
of  their  excitement,  but  for  the  formidable  guard  by 
which  the  prisons  were  defended.  The  whole  popula 
tion  seemed  to  be  in  the  streets  and  public  places,  giving 
and  receiving  with  eagerness  such  intelligence  as  could 
be  obtained.  Their  affliction  is  such  as  it  would  be 
had  each  one  lost  a  parent  or  a  friend.  The  men  rave, 
or  sit,  or  wander  about  listless  and  sad  ;  the  women 
weep ;  children  catch  the  infection,  and  lament  as  for 
the  greatest  misfortune  that  could  have  overtaken  them. 
The  soldiers,  at  first  dumb  with  amazement  at  so  un 
looked-for  and  unaccountable  a  catastrophe,  afterward, 
upon  learning  that  it  fell  out  through  the  treason  of 
Antiochus,  bound  themselves  by  oaths  never  to  ac 
knowledge  or  submit  to  his  authority,  though  Aurelian 
himself  should  impose  him  upon  them,  nay,  to  sacrifice 
him  to  the  violated  honor  of  the  empire,  if  ever  he 
should  fall  into  their  power. 

Yet  all  are  not  such.     The  numbers  are  not  con- 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  185 

temptible  of  those  who,  openly  or  secretly,  favor  the 
cause  and  approve  the  act  of  Antiochus.  He  has  not 
committed  so  great  a  crime  without  some  prospect  of 
advantage  from  it,  nor  without  the  assurance  that  a 
large  party  of  the  citizens,  though  not  the  largest,  is 
with  him,  and  will  adhere  to  his  fortunes.  These  are 
they,  who  think,  and  justly  think,  that  the  Queen  has 
sacrificed  the  country  to  her  insane  ambition  and  pride. 
They  cleave  to  Antiochus,  not  from  personal  regard 
toward  him,  but  because  he  seems  more  available  for 
their  present  purposes  than  any  other,  principally 
through  his  fool-hardy  ambition ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  they  abandon  the  Queen,  not  for  want  of  personal 
affection,  equal  perhaps  to  what  exists  in  any  others, 
but  because  they  conceive  that  the  power  of  Rome  is 
too  mighty  to  contend  with,  and  that  their  best  inter 
ests  rather  than  any  extravagant  notions  of  national 
honor,  ought  to  prompt  their  measures. 

The  city  will  now  give  itself  up,  it  is  probable,  upon 
the  first  summons  of  Aurelian.  The  council  and  the 
senate  have  determined  that  to  hold  out  longer  than  a 
few  days  more  is  impossible.  The  provisions  of  the 
public  granaries  are  exhausted,  and  the  people  are 
already  beginning  to  be  pinched  with  hunger.  The 
rich,  and  all  who  have  been  enabled  to  subsist  upon 
their  own  stores,  are  now  engaged  in  distributing  what 
remains  among  the  poorer  sort,  who  are  now  thrown 
upon  their  compassion.  May  it  not  be,  that  I  am  to 
be  a  witness  of  a  people  dying  of  hunger !  Gracchus 
and  Fausta  are  busily  employed  in  relieving  the  wants 
of  the  suffering. 

VOL.  n.  16* 


186  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

We  have  waited  impatiently  to  hear  the  fate  of  the 
Queen.  Many  reports  have  prevailed,  founded  upon 
what  has  been  observed  from  the  walls.  At  one  time, 
it  has  been  said  that  she  had  perished  under  the  hands 
of  the  executioner — at  another,  that  the  whole  Roman 
camp  had  been  seen  to  be  thrown  into  wild  tumult, 
and  that  she  had  doubtless  fallen  a  sacrifice  to  the 
ungovernable  fury  of  the  licentious  soldiery.  I  cannot 
think  either  report  probable.  Aurelian,  if  he  revenged 
himself  by  her  death,  would  reserve  her  for  execution 
on  the  day  of  his  triumph.  But  he  would  never  tarnish 
his  glory  by  such  an  act.  And  for  the  soldiers — I  am 
sure  of  nothing  more  than  that  they  are  under  too  rigid 
a  discipline,  and  hold  Aurelian  in  too  great  terror,  to 
dare  to  commit  a  violence  like  that  which  has  been 
imputed  to  them. 

At  length — for  hours  are  months  in  such  suspense — 
we  are  relieved.  Letters  have  come  from  Nichomachus 
to  both  Longinus  and  Livia. 

First,  their  sum  is,  the  Queen  lives ! 

I  shall  give  you  what  I  gather  from  them. 

'  When  we  had  parted,'  writes  the  secretary,  *  from 
the  river's  edge,  we  were  led  at  a  rapid  pace  over  the 
same  path  we  had  just  come,  to  the  neighborhood  of 
the  Roman  camp.  I  learned  from  what  I  overheard  of 
the  conversation  of  the  Centurion  with  his  companion 
at  his  side,  that  the  flight  of  the  Queen  had  been  be 
trayed.  But  beyond  that,  nothing. 

'  We  were  taken  not  at  once  to  the  presence  of  Au 
relian,  but  lodged  in  one  of  the  abandoned  palaces  in 
the  outskirts  of  the  city — that  of  Seleucus,  if  I  err  not 
— where,  the  Queen  being  assigned  the  apartments 


ZENOBIA.  187 

needful  for  her  and  her  effects,  a  guard  was  set  around 
the  building. 

'  Here  we  had  remained  not  long,  yet  long  enough 
for  the  Queen  to  exchange  her  disguise  for  her  usual 
robes,  when  it  was  announced  by  the  Centurion  that 
we  must  proceed  to  the  tent  of  the  Emperor.  The 
Queen  and  the  Princess  were  placed  in  a  close  litter, 
and  conveyed  secretly  there,  out  of  fear  of  the  soldiers, 
"  who,"  said  the  Centurion,  "  if  made  aware  of  whom 
we  carry,  would  in  their  rage  tear  to  fragments  and 
scatter  to  the  winds  both  the  litter  and  its  burden." 

1  We  were  in  this  manner  borne  through  the  camp 
to  the  tent  of  Aurelian.  As  we  entered,  the  Emperor 
stood  at  its  upper  end,  surrounded  by  the  chief  persons 
of  his  army.  He  advanced  to  meet  the  Queen,  and  in 
his  changing  countenance  and  disturbed  manner  might 
it  be  plainly  seen  how  even  an  Emperor,  and  he  the 
Emperor  of  the  world,  felt  the  presence  of  a  majesty 
such  as  Zenobia's.  And  never  did  our  great  mistress 
seem  more  a  Queen  than  now — not  through  that  com 
manding  pride  which,  when  upon  her  throne,  has 
impressed  all  who  have  approached  her  with  a  feeling 
of  inferiority,  but  through  a  certain  dark  and  solemn 
grandeur  that  struck  with  awe,  as  of  some  superior 
being,  those  who  looked  upon  her.  There  was  no  sign 
of  grief  upon  her  countenance,  but  many  of  a  deep 
and  rooted  sadness,  such  as  might  never  pass  away. 
No  one  could  behold  her  and  not  lament  the  fortune 
that  had  brought  her  to  such  a  pass.  Whoever  had 
thought  to  enjoy  the  triumph  of  exulting  over  the  royal 
captive,  was  rebuked  by  that  air  of  calm  dignity  and 


188  2  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

profound   melancholy,  which  even  against  the  will, 
touched  the  hearts  of  all,  and  forced  their  homage. 

*  "  It  is  a  happy  day  for  Rome,"  said  Aurelian,  ap 
proaching  and  saluting  her,    "that  sees   you,  lately 
Queen  of  Palmyra  and  of  the  East,  a  captive  in  the 
tent  of  Aurelian." 

'  "  And  a  dark  one  for  my  afflicted  country,"  replied 
the  Queen. 

*  "  It  might  have  been  darker,"  rejoined  the  emperor, 
"  had  not  the  good  providence  of  the  gods  delivered 
you  into  my  hands." 

'  "  The  gods  preside  not  over  treachery.  And  it 
must  have  been  by  treason  among  those  in  whom  1 
have  placed  my  most  familiar  trust,  that  I  am  now 
where  and  what  I  am.  I  can  but  darkly  surmise  by 
whose  baseness  the  act  has  been  committed.  It  had 
been  a  nobler  triumph  to  you,  Roman,  and  a  lighter 
fall  to  me,  had  the  field  of  battle  decided  the  fate  of 
my  kingdom,  and  led  me  a  prisoner  to  your  tent." 

'  "  Doubtless  it  had  been  so,"  replied  Aurelian ;  "yet 
was  it  for  me  to  cast  away  what  chance  threw  into  my 
power  ?  A  war  is  now  happily  ended,  which,  had  your 
boat  reached  the  further  bank  of  the  Euphrates,  might 
yet  have  raged — and  but  to  the  mutual  harm  of  two 
great  nations.  Yet  it  was  both  a  bold  and  sagacious 
device,  and  agrees  well  with  what  was  done  by  you  at 
Antioch,  Emesa,  and  now  in  the  defence  of  your  city. 
A  more  determined,  a  better  appointed,  or  more  despe 
rate  foe,  I  have  never  yet  contended  with." 

*  "  It  were  strange,  indeed,"  replied  the  Queen,  "  if 
you  met  not  with  a  determined  foe,  when  life  and  lib 
erty  were  to  be  defended.     Had  not  treason,  base  and 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  189 

accursed  treason,  given  me  up  like  a  chained  slave  to 
your  power,  yonder  walls  must  have  first  been  beaten 
piecemeal  down  by  your  engines,  and  buried  me  be 
neath  their  ruins,  and  famine  clutched  all  whom  the 
sword  had  spared,  ere  we  had  owned  you  master. 
What  is  life,  when  liberty  and  independence  are  gone  ? " 

*  "  But  why,  let  me  ask,"  said  Aurelian,  'c  were  you 
moved  to  assert  an  independency  of  Rome  ?  How 
many  peaceful  and  prosperous  years  have  rolled  on 
since  Trajan  and  the  Antonines,  while  you  and  Rome 
were  at  harmony ;  a  part  of  us  and  yet  independent ; 
allies  rather  than  a  subject  province  ;  using  our  power 
for  your  defence ;  yet  owning  no  allegiance.  Why 
was  this  order  disturbed?  What  madness  ruled  to 
turn  you  against  the  power  of  Rome  ?" 

'  "  The  same  madness,"  replied  Zenobia,  "  that  tells 
Aurelian  he  may  yet  possess  the  whole  world,  and 
sends  him  here  into  the  far  East  to  wage  needless  war 
with  a  woman — Ambition  !  Yet  had  Aurelian  always 
been  upon  the  Roman  throne,  or  one  resembling  him, 
it  had  perhaps  been  different.  There  then  could  have 
been  naught  but  honor  in  any  alliance  that  had  bound 
together  Rome  and  Palmyra.  But  was  I,  was  the  late 
renowned  Odenatus,  to  confess  allegiance  to  base  souls 
such  as  Aureolus,  Gallienus,  Balista?  While  the 
thirty  tyrants  were  fighting  for  the  Roman  crown,  was 
I  to  sit  still,  waiting  humbly  to  become  the  passive 
prey  of  whosoever  might  please  to  call  me  his  ?  By 
the  immortal  gods,  not  so  !  I  asserted  my  supremacy, 
and  made  it  feit ;  and  in  times  of  tumult  and  confusion 
to  Rome,  while  her  Eastern  provinces  were  one  scene 
of  discord  and  civil  broil,  I  came  in  and  reduced  the 


190  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

jarring  elements,  and  out  of  parts  broken  and  sundered, 
and  hostile,  constructed  a  fair  and  well-proportioned 
whole.  And  when  once  created,  and  I  had  tasted  the 
sweets  of  sovereign  and  despotic  power — what  they 
are  thou  knowest — was  I  tamely  to  yield  the  whole  at 
the  word  or  threat  even  of  Aurelian  ?  It  could  not  be. 
So  many  years  as  had  passed  and  seen  me  Queen,  not 
of  Palmyra  only,  but  of  the  East — a  sovereign  honored 
and  courted  at  Rome,  feared  by  Persia,  my  alliance 
sought  by  all  the  neighboring  dominions  of  Asia — had 
served  but  to  foster  in  me  that  love  of  rule  which  de 
scended  to  me  from  a  long  line  of  kings.  Sprung 
from  a  royal  line,  and  so  long  upon  a  throne,  it  was 
superior  force  alone — divine  or  human — that  should 
drag  me  from  my  right.  Thou  hast  been  but  four 
years  king,  Aurelian,  monarch  of  the  great  Roman 
world,  yet  wouldst  thou  not,  but  with  painful  unwil 
lingness,  descend  and  mingle  with  the  common  herd. 
For  me,  ceasing  to  reign,  I  would  cease  to  live." 

'  "  Thy  speech,"  said  Aurelian,  "  shows  thee  well 
worthy  to  reign.  It  is  no  treason  to  Rome,  Carus,  to 
lament  that  the  fates  have  cast  down  from  a  throne, 
one  who  filled  its  seat  so  well.  Hadst  thou  hearkened 
to  the  message  of  Petronius,  thou  mightest  still,  lady, 
have  sat  upon  thy  native  seat.  The  crown  of  Palmyra 
might  still  have  girt  thy  brow." 

«  "  But  not  of  the  East,"  rejoined  the  Queen. 

*  "  Fight  against  ambition,  Carus  !  thou  seest  how, 
by  aiming  at  too  much,  it  loses  all.  It  is  the  bane  of 
humanity.  When  I  am  dead,  may  ambition  then  die, 
nor  rise  again." 

1  "  May  it  be  so,"  replied  his  general;  "  it  has  greatly 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A.  191 

cursed  the  world.     It  were  better  perhaps  that  it  died 
now." 

*  "It  cannot,"  replied  Aurelian;  "  its  life  is  too  strong. 
I  lament  too,  great  Queen,  for  so  I  may  well  call  thee, 
that  upon  an  ancient  defender  of  our  Roman  honor, 
upon  her  who  revenged  Rome  upon  the  insolent  Per 
sian,  this  heavy  fate  should  fall.  I  would  willingly 
have  met  for  the  first  time  in  a  different  way  the  brave 
conqueror  of  Sapor,  the  avenger  of  the  wrongs  and 
insults  of  the  virtuous  Valerian.  The  debt  of  Rome  tox 


Zenobia  is  great,  and  shall  yet,   in  some  sort  at  least, 
be  paid.     Curses  upon  those  who  moved  thee  to  thi 
war.     They  have  brought  this   calamity  upon 
Queen,  not  I,  nor  thou.     What  ill  designing  aspirants 
have  urged  thee  on  ?     This  is  not  a  woman's  war." 

'  "Was  not  that  a  woman's  war,"  replied  the  Queen, 
"  that  drove  the  Goths  from  upper  Asia  ?  Was  not 
that  a  woman's  war  that  hemmed  Sapor  in  his  capital, 
and  seized  his  camp  ?  and  that  which  beat  Heraclianus, 
and  gained  thereby  Syria  and  Mesopotamia  ?  and  that 
which  worsted  Probus,  and  so  won  the  crown  of  Egypt? 
Dfles  it  ask  for  more,  to  be  beaten  by  Romans,  than  to 
conquer  these  ?  Rest  assured,  great  prince,  that  the 
war  was  mine.  My  people  were  indeed  with  me,  but 
it  was  I  who  roused,  fired,  and  led  them  on.  I  had  in 
deed  great  advisers.  Their  names  are  known  through 
out  the  world.  Why  should  I  name  the  renowned 
Longinus,  the  princely  Gracchus,  the  invincible  Zabdas, 
the  honest  Otho  ?  Their  names  are  honored  in  Rome 
as  well  as  here.  They  have  been  with  me  ;  but  with 
out  lying  or  vanity,  I  may  say  I  have  been  their  head." 

'  "  Be  it  so ;  nevertheless,  thy  services  shall  be  re- 


192  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

membered.  But  let  us  now  to  the  affairs  before  us. 
The  city  has  not  surrendered — though  thy  captivity 
is  known,  the  gates  still  are  shut.  A  word  from  thee 
would  open  them." 

'  "  It  is  a  word  I  cannot  speak,"  replied  the  Queen ; 
her  countenance  expressing  now,  instead  of  sorrow, 
indignation.  "  Wouldst  thou  that  I  too  should  turn 
traitor?" 

'  "  It  surely  would  not  be  that,"  replied  the  Empe 
ror.  "  It  can  avail  naught  to  contend  further — it  can 
but  end  in  a  wider  destruction,  both  of  your  people  and 
my  soldiers." 

'  "  Longinus,  I  may  suppose,"  said  Zenobia,  "is  now 
supreme.  Let  the  Emperor  address  him,  and  what  is 
right  will  be  done." 

*  Aurelian  turned,  and  held  a  brief  conversation  with 
some  of  his  officers. 

'  "  Within  the  walls,"  said  the  Emperor,  again  ad 
dressing  the  Queen,  "thou  hast  sons.  Is  it  not  so?" 

'  "  It  is  not  they,"  said  the  Queen  quickly,  her  coun 
tenance  growing  pale,  "  it  is  not  they,  nor  either  of 
them,  who  have  conspired  against  me  ! " 

'  "  No — not  quite  so.  Yet  he  who  betrayed  thee 
calls  himself  of  thy  family.  Thy  sons  surely  were 
not  in  league  with  him.  Soldiers,"  cried  the  Emperor, 
"lead  forth  the  great  Antiochus,  and  his  slave." 

'  At  his  name,  the  Queen  started — the  Princess 
uttered  a  faint  cry,  and  seemed  as  if  she  would  have 
fallen. 

'  A  fold  of  the  tent  was  drawn  aside,  and  the  huge 
form  of  Antiochus  appeared,  followed  by  the  Queen's 
slave,  her  head  bent  down  and  eyes  cast  upon  the 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  193 

ground.  If  a  look  could  have  killed,  the  first  glance 
of  Zenobia,  so  full  of  a  withering  contempt,  would 
have  destroyed  her  base  kinsman.  He  heeded  it  but 
so  much  as  to  blush  and  turn  away  his  face  from  her. 
Upon  Sindarina  the  Queen  gazed  with  a  look  of  deep 
est  sorrow.  The  beautiful  slave  stood  there  where 
she  entered,  not  lifting  her  head,  but  her  bosom  rising 
and  falling  with  some  great  emotion— conscious,  as  it 
seemed,  that  the  Queen's  look  was  fastened  upon  her, 
and  fearing  to  meet  it.  But  it  was  so  only  for  a  mo 
ment,  when  raising  her  head,  and  revealing  a  counte 
nance  swollen  with  grief,  she  rushed  toward  the  Queen, 
and  threw  herself  at  her  feet,  embracing  them,  and 
covering  them  with  kisses.  Her  deep  sobs  took  away 
all  power  of  speech.  The  Queen  only  said,  "  My  poor 
Sindarina  !  " 

(  The  stern  voice  of  Aurelian  was  first  heard,  "  Bear 
her  away — bear  her  from  the  tent." 

'  A  guard  seized  her,  and  forcibly  separating  her 
from  Zenobia,  bore  her  weeping  away. 

'  "  This,"  said  Aurelian,  turning  now  to  Zenobia, 
"  this  is  thy  kinsman,  as  he  tells  me — the  Prince  An- 
tiochus  ? " 

'  The  Queen  replied  not. 

*  "  He  has  done  Rome  a  great  service."  Antiochus 
raised  his  head,  and  straightened  his  stooping  shoulders. 
"  He  has  the  merit  of  ending  a  weary  and  disastrous 
war.  It  is  a  rare  fortune  to  fall  to  any  one.  'Tis  a 
work  to  grow  great  upon.  Yet,  Prince,"  turning  to 
Antiochus,  "  the  work  is  not  complete.  The  city  yet 
holds  out.  If  I  am  to  reward  thee  with  the  sovereign 
VOL.  n.  17 


194  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

power,  as  thou  sayest,  thou  must  open  the  gates.    Canst 
thou  do  it  ? " 

*  "  Great  Prince,"   replied  the   base  spirit  eagerly, 
"  it  is  provided  for.     Allow  me  but  a  few  moments, 
and  a  place  proper  for  it,  and  the  gates  I  warrant  shall 
quickly  swing  upon  their  hinges." 

<  "  Ah  !  do  you  say  so  ?  That  is  well.  What,  I 
pray,  is  the  process  ?  " 

'  "  At  a  signal  which  I  shall  make,  noble  Prince,  and 
which  has  been  agreed  upon,  every  head  of  every  one 
of  the  Queen's  party  rolls  in  the  dust — Longinus, 
Gracchus,  and  his  daughter,  Seleucus,  Gabrayas,  and 
a  host  more — their  heads  fall.  The  gates  are  then  to 
be  thrown  open." 

1  "  Noble  Palmyrene,  you  have  the  thanks  of  all. 
Of  the  city  then  we  are  at  length  secure.  For  this, 
thou  wouldst  have  the  rule  of  it  under  Rome,  wielding 
a  sceptre  in  the  name  of  the  Roman  Senate,  and  paying 
tribute  as  a  subject  province  ?  Is  it  not  so  ?" 

'  "  It  is.  That  is  what  I  would  have,  and  would  do, 
most  excellent  Aurelian." 

'  "  Who  are  thy  associates  in  this  ?  Are  the  Queen's 
sons,  Herennianus,  Timolaus,  Vabalathus,  of  thy  side, 
and  partners  in  this  enterprise  ?  " 

1  "  They  are  not  privy  to  the  design  to  deliver  up  to 
thy  great  power  the  Queen  their  mother ;  but  they  are 
my  friends,  and  most  surely  do  I  count  upon  their 
support.  As  I  shall  return  king  of  Palmyra,  they  will 
gladly  share  my  power." 

*  "  But  if  friends  of  thine,  they  are  enemies  of  mine," 
rejoined  Aurelian,  in  terrific  tones  ;  "  they  are  seeds  of 
future  trouble ;  they  may  sprout  up  into  kings  also,  to 


2  £  N  0  B  I A  .  195 

Rome's  annoyance.     They  must  be  crushed.     Dost 
thou  understand  me  ?  " 

4  "  I  do,  great  Prince.  Leave  them  to  me.  I  will 
do  for  them.  But  to  say  the  truth  they  are  too  weak 
to  disturb  any — friends  or  enemies." 

*  "  Escape  not  so.     They  must  die,"  roared  Aure- 
lian. 

'  "  They  shall — they  shall,"  ejaculated  the  alarmed 
Antiochus ;  "  soon  as  I  am  within  the  walls  their  heads 
shall  be  sent  to  thee." 

*  "  That  now  is  as  I  would  have  it.     One  thing  more 
thou  hast  asked — that  the  fair  slave  who  accompanies 
thee  be  spared  to  thee,  to  be  thy  Queen." 

*  "  It  was   her   desire — hers,    noble    Aurelian,  not 
mine." 

'  "  But  didst  thou  not  engage  to  her  as  much  ?  " 
'  "  Truly  I  did.  But  among  princes  such  words  are 
but  politic  ones  :  that  is  well  understood.  Kings  mar 
ry  for  the  state.  I  would  be  higher  matched ;"  and 
the  sensual  demon  cast  his  eyes  significantly  towards 
the  Princess  Julia. 

*  "  Am  I  understood  ?  "  continued  Antiochus,  Aure 
lian  making  no  response.      "  The  Princess  Julia    I 
would  raise  to  the  throne."     The  monster  seemed  to 
dilate  to  twice  his  common  size,  as  his  mind  fed  upon 
the  opening  glories. 

*  Aurelian  had  turned  from  him,  looking  first  at  his 
Roman  attendants,  then  at  the  Queen  and  Julia — his 
countenance  kindling  with  some  swelling  passion. 

'  "  Do  I  understand  thee?"  he  then  said.  "I  un 
derstand  thee  to  say  that  for  the  bestowment  of  the 
favors  and  honors  thou  hast  named,  thou  wilt  do  the 


196  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

things  thou  hast  now  specifically  promised  ?  Is  it  not 
so?" 

'  "  It  is,  gracious  king." 

4  "  Dost  thou  swear  it  ? " 

'  "  I  swear  it  by  the  great  God  of  Light ! " 

1  The  countenance  of  the  Emperor  now  grew  black 
with  as  it  seemed  mingled  fury  and  contempt.  Anti- 
ochus  started,  and  his  cheek  paled.  A  little  light 
reached  his  thick  brain. 

'  "  Romans,"  cried  Aurelian,  "  pardon  me  for  so 
abusing  your  ears  !  And  you,  our  royal  captives  !  I 
knew  not  that  such  baseness  lived — still  less  that  it 
was  here.  Thou  foul  stigma  upon  humanity !  Why 
opens  not  the  earth  under  thee,  but  that  it  loathes  and 
rejects  thee !  Is  a  Roman  like  thee,  dost  thou  think, 
to  reward  thy  unheard-of  treacheries  ?  Thou  knowest 
no  more  what  a  Roman  is,  than  what  truth  and  honor 
are.  Soldiers  !  seize  yonder  miscreant,  write  traitor 
on  his  back,  and  spurn  him  forth  the  camp.  His  form 
and  his  soul  both  offend  alike.  Hence,  monster  ! " 

'  Antiochus  was  like  one  thunderstruck.  Trembling 
in  every  joint,  he  sought  to  appeal  to  the  Emperor's 
mercy,  but  the  guard  stopped  his  mouth,  and  dragged 
him  from  the  tent.  His  shrieks  pierced  the  air  as  the 
soldiers  scourged  him  beyond  the  encampment. 

' "  It  was  not  for  me,"  said  Aurelian,  as  these 
ceased  to  be  heard,  "  to  refuse  what  fate  threw  into  my 
hands.  Though  I  despise  the  traitorous  informer,  I 
could  not  shut  my  ear  to  the  facts  he  revealed,  without 
myself  betraying  the  interests  of  Rome.  But,  believe 
me,  it  was  information  I  would  willingly  have  spared. 
My  infamy  were  as  his  to  have  rewarded  the  traitor. 


ZEN  OBI  A.  197 

Fear  not,  great  Queen ;  I  pledge  the  word  of  a  Roman 
and  an  Emperor  for  thy  safety.  Thou  art  safe  both 
from  Roman  and  Palmyrene." 

' "  What  I  have  but  now  been  witness  of,"  replied 
the  Queen,  "  assures  me  that  in  the  magnanimity  of 
Aurelian  I  may  securely  rest." 

*  As  the  Queen  uttered  these  words,  a  sound  as  of  a 
distant  tumult,  and  the  uproar  of  a  multitude,  caught 
the  ears  of  all  within  the  tent. 

*  "  What  mean  these  tumultuous  cries  ? "  inquired 
Aurelian  of  his  attending  guard.     "  They  increase  and 
approach." 

' "  It  may  be  but  the  soldiers  at  their  game  with 
Antiochus,"  replied  Probus. 

'  But  it  was  not  so.  At  the  moment  a  Centurion, 
breathless,  and  with  his  head  bare,  rushed  madly  into 
the  tent. 

1  "  Speak,"  said  the  Emperor,  "  what  is  it  ?  " 

*  "  The  legions  ! "  said  the  Centurion,  as  soon  as  he 
could  command  his  words,  "  the  legions  are  advanc 
ing,  crying  out  for  the  Queen  of  Palmyra !     They  have 
broken  from  their  camp  and  their  leaders,  and  in  one 
mixed  body  come  to  surround  the  Emperor's  tent." 

*  As  he  ended,  the  fierce  cries  of  the  enraged  soldiery 
were  distinctly  heard,  like  the  roaring  of  a  forest  torn 
by  a  tempest.     Aurelian,  baring  his  sword,  and  calling 
upon  his  friends  to  do  the  same,  sprang  toward  the 
entrance  of  the  tent.     They  were  met  by  the  dense 
throng  of  the  soldiers,  who  now  pressed  against  the 
tent,  and  whose  savage  yells  now  could  be  heard, — 

*  "  The  head  of  Zenobia." — "  Deliver  the  Queen  to 

VOL.    II.  17* 


198  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

our  will." — "  Throw  out  the  head  of  Zenohia,  and  we 
will  return  to  our  quarters." — "  She  belongs  to  us." 

'  At  the  same  moment  the  sides  of  the  tent  were 
thrown  up,  showing  the  whole  plain  filled  with  the 
heaving  multitude,  and  being  itself  instantly  crowded 
with  the  ringleaders  and  their  more  desperate  asso 
ciates.  Zenobia,  supporting  the  Princess,  who  clung 
to  her,  and  pale  through  a  just  apprehension  of  every 
horror,  but  otherwise  firm  and  undaunted,  cried  out 
to  Aurelian,  "  Save  us,  0  Emperor,  from  this  foul 
butchery  ! " 

'"  We  will  die  else!"  replied  the  Emperor;  who 
with  the  word,  sprang  upon  a  soldier  making  toward 
the  Queen,  and  with  a  blow  clove  him  to  the  earth. 
Then  swinging  round  him  that  sword  which  had 
drunk  the  blood  of  thousands,  and  followed  by  the 
gigantic  Sandarion,  by  Probus,  and  Carus,  a  space 
around  the  Queen  was  soon  cleared. 

' "  Back,  ruffians,"  cried  Aurelian,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder,  "  for  you  are  no  longer  Romans  !  back  to 
the  borders  of  the  tent.  There  I  will  hear  your  com 
plaints."  The  soldiers  fell  back,  and  their  ferocious 
cries  ceased. 

'  "  Now,"  cried  the  Emperor,  addressing  them, 
''•what  is  your  will,  that  thus  in  wild  disorder  you 
throng  my  tent  ?  " 

1  One  from  the  crowd  replied — "  Our  will  is  that  the 
Queen  of  Palmyra  be  delivered  to  us  as  our  right, 
instantly.  Thousands  and  thousands  of  our  bold 
companions  lie  buried  upon  these  accursed  plains,  slain 
by  her  and  her  fiery  engines.  We  demand  her  life- 
It  is  but  justice,  and  faint  justice  too." 


2  £  N  0  8  I  A  .  199 

1  "  Her  life  !" — "  Her.  life  ! " — arose  in  one  shout 
from  the  innumerable  throng. 

'  The  Emperor  raised  his  hand,  waving  his  sword 
dropping  with  the  blood  of  the  slain  soldier ;  the  noise 
subsided ;  and  his  voice,  clear  and  loud  like  the  tone 
of  a  trumpet,  went  to  the  farthest  bounds  of  the  mul 
titude. 

'  "  Soldiers,"  he  cried,  "  you  ask  for  justice ;  and 
justice  you  shall  have."— "  Aurelian  is  ever  just!" 
cried  many  voices. — "But  you  shall  not  have  the  life 
of  the  Queen  of  Palmyra." — He  paused  ;  a  low  mur 
mur  went  through  the  crowd, — "  Or  you  must  first 
take  the  life  of  your  Emperor,  and  of  these  who  stand 
with  him."— The  soldiers  were  silent. — "  In  asking 
the  life  of  Zenobia,"  he  continued,  "  you  know  not 
what  you  ask.  Are  any  here  who  went  with  Valerian 
to  the  Persian  war  ? "  A  few  voices  responded,  "  I 
was  there, — and  I, — and  I." — "  Are  there  any  here 
whose  parents,  or  brothers,  or  friends  fell  into  the  tiger 
clutches  of  the  barbarian  Sapor,  and  died  miserably  in 
hopeless  captivity  ?" — Many  voices  every  where 
throughout  the  crowd  were  heard  in  reply,  "  Yes,  yes, 
— Mine  were  there,  and  mine." — "  Did  you  ever  hear 
it  said,"  continued  Aurelian,  "  that  Rome  lifted  a  fin 
ger  for  their  rescue,  or  for  that  of  the  good  Valerian  ? " 
— They  were  silent,  some  crying,  "  No,  no." — "Know 
then,  that  when  Rome  forgot  her  brave  soldiers  and 
her  Emperor,  Zenobia  remembered  and  avenged  them; 
and  Rome  fallen  into  contempt  with  the  Persian,  was 
raised  to  her  ancient  renown  by  the  arms  of  her  ally, 
the  brave  Zenobia,  and  her  dominions  throughout  the 
East  saved  from  the  grasp  of  Sapor  only  by  her  valor. 


200  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

While  Gallienus  wallowed  in  sensuality  and  forgot 
Rome,  and  even  his  own  great  father,  the  Queen  of 
Palmyra  stood  forth,  and  with  her  royal  husband,  the 
noble  Odenatus,  was  in  truth  the  savior  of  the  empire. 
And  is  it  her  life  you  would  have  ?  Were  that  a  just 
return  ?  Were  that  Roman  magnanimity  ?  And  grant 
that  thousands  of  your  brave  companions  lie  buried 
upon  these  plains  :  it  is  but  the  fortune  of  war.  Were 
they  not  slain  in  honorable  fight,  in  the  siege  of  a  city, 
for  its  defence  unequalled  in  all  the  annals  of  war  ? 
Cannot  Romans  honor  courage  and  conduct,  though  in 
an  enemy  ?  But  you  ask  for  justice.  I  have  said  you 
shall  have  justice.  You  shall.  It  is  right  that  the 
heads  and  advisers  of  this  revolt,  for  such  the  senate 
deems  it,  should  be  cut  off.  It  is  the  ministers  of 
princes  who  are  the  true  devisers  of  a  nation's  acts. 
These,  when  in  our  power,  shall  be  yours.  And  now, 
who,  soldiers !  stirred  up  this  mutiny,  bringing  inex 
piable  shame  upon  our  brave  legions  ?  Who  are  the 
leaders  of  the  tumult  ? " 

'  Enough  were  found  to  name  them ; 

'  "  Firmus  :  Carinus  !  the  Centurions  Plancus  !  Ta- 
tius  !  Burrhus  !  Valens  !  Crispinus  ! " 

'  "  Guards  !  seize  them  and  hew  them  down.  Sol 
diers  !  to  your  tents."  The  legions  fell  back  as 
tumultuously  as  they  had  come  together;  the  faster, 
as  the  dying  groans  of  the  slaughtered  ringleaders  fell 
upon  their  ears. 

'  The  tent  of  the  Emperor  was  once  more  restored 
to  order.  After  a  brief  conversation,  in  which  Aurelian 
expressed  his  shame  for  the  occurrence  of  such  disorders 
in  the  presence  of  the  Queen,  the  guard  were  com- 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  201 

manded  to  convey  back  to  the  palace  of  Seleucus, 
whence  they  had  been  taken,  Zenobia  and  the  Prin 
cess.' 

Such  are  the  principal  matters  contained  in  the 
communications  of  Nichomachus. 

When  the  facts  contained  in  them  became  known, 
the  senate,  the  council,  the  army,  and  the  people, 
agreed  in  the  belief,  that  the  Queen's  safety  and  their 
own  would  now  be  best  secured  by  an  immediate 
capitulation.  Accordingly,  heralds  bearing  letters  from 
Longinus,  in  the  name  of  the  council,  proceeded  to  the 
Roman  camp.  No  other  terms  could  be  obtained  than 
a  verbal  promise  that  the  city,  the  walls,  and  the 
common  people  should  be  spared ;  but  the  surrender, 
beyond  that,  must  be  unconditional. 

Upon  learning  the  terms  prescribed  by  the  conquer 
or,  many  were  for  further  resistance.  *  The  language 
of  Aurelian,'  they  said,  *  is  ambiguous.  He  will  spare 
the  city,  walls,  and  common  people.  Are  our  senators 
and  counsellors  to  be  sacrificed  ?  Are  they,  who  have 
borne  the  burden  of  the  day,  now  to  be  selected,  as  the 
only  ones  who  are  to  suffer  ?  It  shall  not  be  so.' 

Generous  sentiments  like  these  were  heard  on  all 
sides.  But  they  were  answered  and  overcome,  by 
Gracchus  especially,  and  others.  Said  Gracchus  to 
the  people,  '  Doubtless  punishment  will  be  inflicted  by 
Rome  upon  some.  Our  resistance  is  termed  by  her, 
rebellion,  revolt,  conspiracy  ;  the  leaders  will  be  sought 
and  punished.  It  is  ever  her  course.  But  this  is  a 
light  evil  compared  with  a  wide-spread  massacre  of 
this  whole  population,  the  destruction  of  these  famous 
temples,  the  levelling  of  these  proud  walls.  Aurelian 


202  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

has  said  that  these  shall  be  spared.  His  word,  though 
an  unwritten  and  informal  one,  may  be  trusted.  My 
counsel  is,  that  it  be  at  once  accepted.  What  if  a  few 
grey  heads  among  us  are  taken  off?  That  will  not 
touch  the  existence  or  prosperity  of  Palmyra.  You  can 
spare  them.  Your  children  will  soon  grow  up  to  take 
our  places,  and  fill  them,  I  hope,  with  a  better  wisdom.' 
But  such  words  only  served  at  first  the  more  to 
strengthen  the  people  in  their  resolution,  that  their 
rulers  should  not  be  the  only  sacrifice.  None  were 
loved  throughout  the  city  more  than  Gracchus  and 
Otho,  none  revered  like  Longinus.  It  was  a  long  and 
painful  struggle  between  affection  and  the  convictions 
of  reason  before  it  ended,  and  the  consent  of  the  people 
was  obtained  to  deliver  up  the  city  to  the  mercy  of 
Aurelian.  But  it  was  obtained. 

I  was  sitting  with  Fausta  and  Calpurnius,  speaking 
of  the  things  that  had  happened,  and  of  the  conduct  of 
the  Queen,  when  Gracchus  entered  and  joined  us, 
informing  us  that  *  ambassadors  were  now  gone  to  the 
camp  of  Aurelian,  clothed  with  authority  to  deliver  up 
the  city  into  his  hands.  So  that  now  the  end  has 
drawn  on,  and  Palmyra  ceases  to  exist.' 

Fausta,  although  knowing  that  this  must  happen, 
and  might  at  any  moment,  could  not  hear  the  fatal 
words,  announcing  the  death  of  her  country,  as  she 
deemed  it,  and  quenching  forever  in  darkness  the  bright 
dreams  upon  which  she  had  fed  so  long,  without  re 
newed  grief.  We  were  a  long  time  silent. 

'  Something  yet  remains,'  at  length  Gracchus  re 
sumed,  *  for  us  to  resolve  upon  and  do.  Before  many 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  203 

hours  have  elapsed,  a  Roman  army  will  fill  the  streets 
of  the  city,  perhaps  our  houses  also,  and  a  general 
plunder  may  be  commenced  of  all  the  valuables  we 
possess.  It  will  be  useless  to  conceal  what  it  will  be 
well  enough  known,  from  the  manner  in  which  we  live, 
must  be  beneath  our  roof.  It  will  but  expose  our  lives. 
Yet,  Fausta,  your  jewels,  valued  by  you  as  gifts,  and 
other  things  precious  for  the  same  or  a  like  reason,  may 
easily  be  secreted,  nor  yet  be  missed  by  the  licensed 
robbers.  See  to  this,  my  child ;  but  except  this  there 
is  now  naught  to  do  concerning  such  affairs,  but  to  sit 
still  and  observe  the  general  wreck.  But  there  are 
other  and  weightier  matters  to  be  decided  upon,  and 
that  at  once.' 

'  Concerning  the  care  of  ourselves,  you  mean  ? '  said 
Fausta. 

4 1  do,'  replied  Gracchus. 

*  I,'  said  Fausta,  '  would  remain  here,  where  I  am.' 

*  It  is  that  which  I  wish,'  replied  her  father.    '  I  com 
mit  you  to  the  care  of  Lucius.     For  Calpurnius,  he 
must  leave  you,  and  as  he  would  live,  fly  if  that  yet 
be  possible  beyond  the  walls,  or  conceal  himself  within 
them.' 

*  Never  ! '    said  Calpurnius ;  '  I  can  do  neither.     I 
have  never  shunned  a  danger — and  I  cannot.' 

'  Let  pride  and  passion  now,'  said  Gracchus,  '  go  fast 
asleep.  We  have  no  occasion  for  them  ;  they  are  out 
of  place,  dealing  as  we  now  do  with  stern  necessities. 
Your  life  will  be  especially  sought  by  Aurelian ;  it  is 
a  life  that  cannot  be  spared.  Fausta  needs  you.  In 
you  she  must  find,  or  nowhere,  father,  husband,  friend. 
Lucius,  when  these  troubles  are  over,  will  return  to 


204  2  E  N  O  B  1  A  . 

Rome,  and  I  shall  be  in  the  keeping  of  Aurelian. 
You  must  live  ;  for  her  sake,  if  not  for  your  own.' 
'  For  mine  too,  surely,  if  for  hers,'  replied  Calpurnius. 

*  Father,'   said  Fausta,  throwing  her  arms  around 
him,  *  why,  why  must  you  fall  into  the  hands  of  Aure 
lian  ?     Why  not,  with  Calpurnius,  fly  from  these  now 
hated  walls  ? ' 

'  My  daughter  ! '  replied  Gracchus,  *  let  not  your 
love  of  me  make  you  forgetful  of  what  I  owe  my  own 
name  and  our  country's.  Am  I  not  bound  by  the 
words  of  Aurelian  ? — "  He  will  spare  the  city  and  the 
common  people" — reserving  for  himself  their  rulers 
and  advisers.  Were  they  all  to  fly  or  shrink  into  con 
cealment,  can  we  doubt  that  then  the  fury  of  the  fierce 
Roman  would  discharge  itself  upon  the  helpless  people, 
and  men,  women  and  children  suffer  in  our  stead  ? 
And  shall  I  fly  while  the  rest  are  true  to  their  trust  ? ' 

«  The  gods  forbid  ! '  sobbed  Fausta. 

'Now  you  are  yourself  again.  Life  is  of  little  ac 
count  with  me.  For.  you  I  would  willingly  hold  on 
upon  it,  though  in  any  event  my  grasp  would  be  rapidly 
growing  weaker  and  weaker ;  age  would  come  and 
weaken  and  dissolve  it.  But  for  myself,  I  can  truly 
say,  I  survey  the  prospect  of  death  with  indifference. 
Life  is  one  step ;  death  is  another.  I  have  taken  the 
first,  I  am  as  ready  to  take  the  second.  But  to  preserve 
life,  agreeable  as  I  have  found  it,  by  any  sacrifice — ' 

'  0,  that  were  dying  twice  ! '  said  Fausta;  'I  know  it.' 

*  Be  thankful  then  that  I  shall  die  but  once,  and  so 
dry  your  tears.     Of  nothing  am  I  more  clear,  than  that 
if  the  loss  of  my  head  will  bring  security  to  the  city 
and  the  people,  I  can  offer  it  to  the  executioner  with 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  20«5 

scarce  a  single  regret.  But  let  us  leave  this.  But  few 
hours  remain  to  do  what  is  yet  to  be  done.' 

It  was  so  indeed.  Already  the  commotion  in  the 
streets  indicated  that  the  entrance  of  the  Roman  army 
was  each  moment  expected. 

It  was  determined  that  Calpurnius  should  avail 
himself  of  the  old  conduit,  and  fly  beyond  the  walls. 
To  this  he  consented,  though  with  pain  ;  and  bidding 
us  farewell,  departed.  Fausta  retired  to  fulfil  the 
injunctions  of  her  father,  while  Gracchus  employed 
himself  in  arranging  a  few  papers,  to  be  entrusted  to 
my  keeping. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  hours  the  gates  of  the  city 
were  thrown  open,  and  the  army  of  the  conqueror 
made  its  unobstructed  entrance.  Soon  as  the  walls 
were  secured,  the  towers  of  the  gates,  and  the  arms 
of  the  Queen's  remaining  forces,  Aurelian  himself 
approached,  and  by  the  Roman  gate  passed  into  a  city 
that  had  cost  him  so  dear  to  gain.  He  rode  through 
its  principal  streets  and  squares,  gazing  with  admiration 
at  the  magnificence  which  every  where  met  his  view. 
As  he  arrived  at  the  far-famed  Temple  of  the  Sun, 
and  was  told  to  what  deity  it  was  dedicated,  he  bared 
his  head,  flung  himself  from  his  horse,  and  on  foot, 
followed  by  an  innumerable  company  of  Romans, 
ascended  its  long  flight  of  steps,  and  there  within  its 
walls  returned  solemn  thanks  to  the  great  God  of 
Light,  the  protecting  deity  of  his  house,  for  the  success 
that  had  crowned  his  arms. 

When  this  act  of  worship  had  been  performed,  and 
votive  offerings  had  been  hung  upon  the  columns  of  the 
temple,  the  Emperor  came  forth,  and  after  visiting  and 

VOL.    II.  18 


206  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

inspecting  all  that  was  beautiful  and  rare,  made  pro 
clamation  of  his  will  concerning  the  city  and  its  inha 
bitants.  This  was,  that  all  gold  and  silver,  precious 
stones,  all  pictures,  statues,  and  other  works  of  art, 
were  to  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  Romans,  and  that 
all  the  members  of  the  Queen's  senate  and  council, 
with  the  nobility,  were  to  be  delivered  up  as  prisoners 
of  war,  together  with  certain  specified  portions  of  the 
army.  Beyond  these  requisitions,  the  persons  and 
property  of  the  citizens  were  to  be  respected.  No 
violence  of  any  kind  on  the  part  of  the  soldiers  would 
be  allowed,  or  pardoned  if  committed. 

Immediately  upon  this,  the  Roman  army  was  con 
verted  into  a  body  of  laborers  and  artisans,  employed 
in  the  construction  of  wains  of  every  form  and  size,  for 
the  transportation  across  the  desert  to  the  sea-coast,  of 
whatever  would  adorn  the  triumph  of  Aurelian,  or  add 
to  the  riches  of  the  great  capital  of  the  world.  Vast 
numbers  of  elephants  and  camels  wrere  collected  from 
the  city,  and  from  all  the  neighboring  territory,  with 
which  to  drag  the  huge  and  heavy  loaded  wagons 
through  the  deep  sands  and  over  the  rough  and  rocky 
plains  of  Syria.  The  palaces  of  the  nobles  and  the 
wealthy  merchants  have  been  stripped  of  every  em 
bellishment  of  art  and  taste.  The  private  and  public 
gardens,  the  fountains,  the  porticos,  have  each  and  all 
been  robbed  of  every  work,  in  either  marble  or  brass, 
which  had  the  misfortune  or  the  merit  to  have  been 
wrought  by  artists  of  distinguished  names.  The  pal 
aces  of  the  Queen  and  of  Longinus  were  objects  of 
especial  curiosity  and  desire,  and,  as  it  were,  their 
entire  contents,  after  being  secured  with  utmost  art 


Z  E  N  0  B  I A  .  207 

from  possibility  of  injury,  have  been  piled  upon  car 
riages  prepared  for  them,  ready  for  their  journey  toward 
Rome.  It  was  pitiful  to  look  on  and  see  this  wide 
desolation  of  scenes,  that  so  little  while  ago  had  offered 
to  the  eye  all  that  the  most  cultivated  taste  could  have 
required  for  its  gratification.  The  citizens  stood  around 
in  groups,  silent  witnesses  of  the  departing  glories  of 
their  city  and  nation. 

But  the  sight  saddest  of  all  to  behold,  was  that  of 
the  senators  and  counsellors  of  Palmyra,  led  guarded 
from  the  city  to  the  camp  of  Aurelian.  All  along  the 
streets  through  which  they  passed,  the  people  stood  in 
dumb  and  motionless  array,  to  testify  in  that  expressive 
manner  their  affection  and  their  grief.  Voices  were 
indeed  occasionally  heard  invoking  the  blessings  of  the 
gods  upon  them,  or  imprecating  curses  upon  the  head 
of  the  scourge  Aurelian.  Whenever  Longinus  and 
Gracchus  appeared,  their  names  were  uttered  in  the 
tones  with  which  children  would  cry  out  to  venerated 
parents,  whom  they  beheld  for  the  last  time ;  beheld 
borne  away  from  them  by  a  power  they  could  not  re 
sist  to  captivity  or  death.  No  fear  of  the  legion  that 
surrounded  them  availed  to  repress  or  silence  such 
testimonies  of  regard.  And  if  confidence  was  reposed 
in  the  Roman  soldiery,  that  they  would  not,  because 
conquerors  and  the  power  was  theirs,  churlishly  deny 
them  the  freedom  to  relieve  in  that  manner  their  over 
burdened  hearts,  it  was  not — happy  was  I,  as  a  Roman, 
to  witness  it — misplaced.  They  resented  it  not  either 
by  word  or  look  or  act,  but  moved  on  like  so  many 
statues  in  mail,  turning  neither  to  the  one  hand  nor 
the  other,  nor  apparently  so  much  as  hearing  the  re- 


208  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

preaches  which  were  by  some  lavished  upon  them  and 
their  Emperor. 

Livia,  Faustula,  and  the  other  inmates  of  the  palace 
have  joined  Zenobia  and  Julia,  by  order  of  Aurelian, 
at  the  house  of  Seleucus.  The  Caesars,  Herennianus 
and  Timolaus,  have  fled  or  concealed  themselves  ;  Va- 
balathus  has  surrendered  himself,  and  has  accompanied 
the  princesses  to  the  Roman  camp. 

How  desolate  is  the  house  of  Gracchus,  deprived  of 
its  princely  head  ! — especially  as  the  mind  cannot  help 
running  forward  and  conjecturing  the  fate  which  awaits 
him.  Fausta  surrenders  herself  to  her  grief — loss  of 
country  and  of  parent,  at  one  and  the  same  moment,  is 
loss  too  great  for  her  to  bear  with  fortitude.  Her  spirit, 
so  alive  to  affection  and  every  generous  sentiment,  is 
almost  broken  by  these  sorrows  and  disappointments. 
I  did  not  witness  the  parting  between  her  and  Gracchus, 
and  happy  am  I  that  I  did  not.  Her  agony  was  in 
proportion  to  her  love  and  her  sensibility.  I  have  not 
met  her  since.  She  remains  within  her  own  apart 
ments,  seen  only  by  her  favorite  slaves.  A  double 
darkness  spreads  around  while  Fausta  too  is  with 
drawn. 

It  appeared  to  me  now,  my  Curtius,  as  if  something 
might  be  done  on  my  part  in  behalf  of  Gracchus.  Ac 
cording  to  the  usages  of  Rome,  the  chief  persons  among 
the  prisoners,  and  who  might  be  considered  as  the 
leaders  of  the  rebellion,  I  knew  would  die  either  at 
once,  or  at  farthest,  when  Aurelian  should  re-enter 
Rome  as  the  conqueror  of  the  East.  I  considered  that 
by  reason  of  the  growing  severity  of  the  Emperor 
toward  all,  friends  as  well  as  foes — amounting,  as  many 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  209 

now  deem,  to  cruelty — the  danger  to  Gracchus  was 
extreme,  beyond  any  power  perhaps  to  avert.  Yet  I 
remembered,  at  the  same  time,  the  generous  traits  in 
Aurelian's  character ;  his  attachment  toward  old  friends  j 
his  gratitude  for  services  rendered  him  in  the  early 
part  of  his  life,  while  making  his  way  up  through  the 
lower  posts  of  the  army.  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  was 
open  to  solicitation ;  that  he  would  not  refuse  to  hear 
me — a  friend — the  son  of  Cneius  Piso. — with  what 
object  soever  I  might  present  myself  before  him  :  and 
that,  consequently,  there  was  from  this  quarter  a  ray  of 
hope,  however  small,  for  the  father  of  our  beloved 
Fausta. 

Accordingly,  so  soon  as  the  affairs  at  first  calling  for 
the  entire  devotion  of  Aurelian  were  through,  and  I 
knew  that  his  leisure  would  allow  of  an  interruption,  I 
sought  the  Roman  camp,  and  asked  an  audience  of  the 
Emperor.  It  was  immediately  granted. 

As  I  entered  his  tent,  Aurelian  was  seated  at  a  table 
holding  in  his  hand  a  parchment  scroll,  which  he 
seemed  intently  considering.  His  stern  countenance 
lowered  over  it  like  a  thunder-cloud.  I  stood  there 
where  I  had  entered  a  few  moments  before  he  seemed 
aware  of  the  presence  of  any  one.  His  eye  then  falling 
almost  accidentally  upon  me,  he  suddenly  rose,  and 
with  the  manner  of  his  ancient  friendship  warmly 
greeted  me. 

*  I  am  glad,'  said  he,  *  to  meet  so  true  a  Roman  in 
these  distant  parts.' 

1 1  am  still  a  true  Roman,'  I  replied,  *  notwithstand 
ing  I  have  been,  during  this  siege,  upon  the  side  of  the 


enemy 


VOL.    II.  18* 


210  ZENOBIA. 

1 1  doubt  it  not.  I  am  not  ignorant  of  the  causes 
that  led  you  to  Palmyra,  and  have  detained  you  there. 
Henceforward  your  Roman  blood  must  be  held  of  the 
purest,  for  as  I  learn,  and  since  I  have  seen  can  believe, 
they  are  few  who  have  come  within  the  magic  circle 
of  the  late  Queen,  who  have  not  lost  their  name  and 
freedom — themselves  fastening  on  the  chains  of  her 
service.' 

'  You  have  heard  truly.  Her  court  and  camp  are 
filled  with  those  who  at  first  perhaps  sought  her  capital, 
as  visiters  of  curiosity  or  traffic,  but  being  once  within 
the  marvellous  influence  of  her  presence,  have  remained 
there  her  friends  or  servants.  She  is  irresistible.' 

*  And  well  nigh  so  in  war  too.  In  Rome  they  make 
themselves  merry  at  my  expense,  inasmuch  as  I  have 
been  warring  thus  with  a  woman — not  a  poet  in  the 
garrets  of  the  Via  Cceli,  but  has  entertained  the  city 
with  his  couplets  upon  the  invincible  Aurelian,  beset 
here  in  the  East  by  an  army  of  women,  who  seem 
likely  to  subdue  him  by  their  needles  or  their  charms. 
Nay,  the  Senate  looks  on  and  laughs.  By  the  immortal 
gods  !  they  know  not  of  what  they  speak.  Julius 
Caesar  himself,  Piso,  never  displayed  a  better  genius 
than  this  woman.  Twice  have  I  saved  my  army  but 
by  stratagem.  I  give  the  honor  of  those  days  to  Ze- 
nobia.  It  belongs  to  her  rather  than  to  me.  Palmyra 
may  well  boast  of  Antioch  and  Emesa.  Your  brother 
did  her  good  service  there.  I  trust,  for  your  sake  and 
for  mine,  he  will  not  fall  into  my  hands.' 

That  dark  and  cruel  frown,  which  marks  Aurelian, 
grew  above  and  around  his  eyes. 


ZENOBIA.  211 

*I  never,'   he  continued,  'forgive  a  traitor  to  his 

country.' 

'  Yet,'  I  ventured  to  say,  '  surely  the  circumstances 
of  his  captivity,  and  long  abandonment,  may  plead 
somewhat  in  extenuation  of  his  fault.' 

'  Never.     His  crime  is  beyond  the  reach  of  pardon.' 

Aurelian  had  evidently  supposed  that  I  came  to  seek 
favor  for  Calpurnius.  But  this  I  had  not  intended  to 
do,  as  Calpurnius  had  long  ago  resolved  never  again 
to  dwell  within  the  walls  of  Rome.  I  then  opened  the 
subject  of  my  visit. 

'  I  have  come,'  I  said,  *  not  to  seek  the  pardon  of 
Calpurnius  Piso.  Such,  to  my  grief,  is  his  hostility 
toward  Rome,  that  he  would  neither  seek  nor  accept 
mercy  at  her  hands.  He  has  forsworn  his  country, 
and  never  willingly  will  set  foot  within  her  borders. 
He  dwells  henceforward  in  Asia.  But  there  is  ano 
ther—' 

'  You  would  speak  of  Gracchus.  It  cannot  be. 
Longinus  excepted,  he  is  the  first  citizen  of  Palmyra. 
If  the  Queen  be  spared,  these  must  suffer.  It  is  due 
to  the  army,  and  to  justice,  and  to  vengeance.  The 
soldiers  have  clamored  for  the  blood  of  Zenobia,  and  it 
has  been  at  no  small  cost  that  her  and  her  daughter's 
life  have  been  redeemed.  But  I  have  sworn  it,  they 
shall  live  ;  my  blood  shall  flow  before  theirs.  Zenobia 
has  done  more  for  Rome  than  many  an  Emperor. 
Besides,  I  would  that  Rome  should  see  with  her  own 
eyes  who  it  is  has  held  even  battle  with  Roman  legions 
so  long,  that  they  may  judge  me  to  have  had  a  worthy 
antagonist.  She  must  grace  my  triumph.' 

'  I  truly  thank  the  gods,'  I  said,  *  that  it  is  so  resolv- 


212  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

ed  !  Fortune  has  placed  me,  while  in  her  dominions, 
near  the  Queen,  and  though  a  Roman,  I  have  come  to 
love  and  revere  her  even  like  a  Palmyrene.  Would 
that  the  like  clemency  might  be  shown  toward  Grac 
chus  !  There  is  no  greatness  like  mercy.' 

*  I  may  not,  noble  Piso,  win  glory  to  myself  at  the 
cost  of  Rome.  On  the  field  of  battle  I  and  Rome  win 
together.  In  pardoning  her  enemies  fallen  into  my 
power,  I  may  indeed  crown  myself  with  the  praise  of 
magnanimity  in  the  eye  of  the  world,  while  by  the 
same  act  I  wound  my  country.  No  rebellion  is  quelled, 
till  the  heads  that  moved  and  guided  it  are  off— off. 
Who  is  ignorant  that  Longinus,  that  subtle  Greek,  has 
been  the  master-spring  in  this  great  revolt  ?  and  hand 
and  hand  with  him  Gracchus  ?  Well  should  I  deserve 
the  gibes  and  sneers  of  the  Roman  mob,  if  I  turned  my 
back  upon  the  great  work  I  have  achieved,  leaving 
behind  me  spirits  like  these  to  brew  fresh  trouble. 
Nor,  holding  to  this  as  it  may  seem  to  you  harsh  de 
cision,  am  I  forgetful,  Piso,  of  our  former  friendship ; 
nor  of  the  helping  hand  often  stretched  out  to  do  me 
service  of  Cneius  Piso,  your  great  parent.  I  must 
trust  in  this  to  your  generosity  or  justice,  to  construe 
me  aright.  Fidelity  to  Rome  must  come  before  private 
friendship,  or  even  gratitude.  Am  I  understood?' 
~~  '  I  think  so.' 

1  Neither  must  you  speak  to  me  of  Longinus  the 
learned  Greek — the  accomplished  scholar — the  great 
philosopher.  He  has  thrown  aside  the  scholar  and  the 
philosopher  in  putting  on  the  minister.  He  is  to  me 
known  only  as  the  Queen's  chief  adviser  ;  Palmyra's 
strength  ;  the  enemy  of  Rome.  As  such  he  has  been 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  213 

arrayed  against  me ;  as  such  he  has  fallen  a  prisoner 
into  my  hands ;  as  such  he  must  feel  the  sword  of  the 
Roman  executioner.  Gracchus — I  would  willingly  for 
thy  sake,  Piso,  spare  him — the  more,  as  I  hear  thou 
art  betrothed  to  his  far-famed  daughter,  she  who  upon 
the  fields  of  Antioch  and  Emesa  filled  with  amazement 
even  Roman  soldiers.' 

To  say  that  instead  of  me  it  was  Calpurnius  to  .vhorn 
she  was  betrothed,  would  seem  to  have  sealed  the  fate 
of  Gracchus  at  the  moment  there  was  a  gleam  of  hope. 
I  only  said, 

'  She  was  the  life  of  the  Queen's  army.  She  falls 
but  little  below  her  great  mistress.' 

1 1  believe  it.  These  women  of  Palmyra  are  the 
true  wonder  of  the  age.  When  for  the  first  time  I 
found  myself  before  Zenobia  and  her  daughter,  it  is 
no  shame  for  me  to  confess  that  it  was  hard  for  the 
moment  to  believe  myself  Aurelian  and  conqueror.  I 
was  ready  to  play  the  subject ;  I  scarce  kept  myself 
from  an  oriental  prostration.  Never,  Piso,  was  such 
beauty  seen  in  Rome.  Rome  now  has  an  Empress 
worthy  of  her — unless  a  Roman  Emperor  may  sue  in 
vain.  Think  you  not  with  me  ?  You  have  seen  the 
Princess  Julia?' 

You  can  pity  me,  Curtius  and  Lucilia.     I  said  only, 

*  I  have.  Her  beauty  is  rare  indeed,  but  by  many, 
nay  by  most,  her  sister,  the  Princess  Livia,  is  esteemed 
before  her.' 

'  Hah  !  Nay,  but  that  cannot  be.  The  world  itself 
holds  not  another  like  the  elder  Princess,  much  less 
the  same  household.'  He  seemed  as  if  he  would  have 
added  more,  but  his  eye  fell  upon  the  scroll  before  him, 


214  ZEN  OBI  A. 

and  it  changed  the  current  of  his  thoughts  and  the  ex 
pression  of  his  countenance,  which  again  grew  dark  as 
when  I  first  entered  the  tent.  He  muttered  over  as  to 
himself  the  names  of  *  Gracchus,'  *  Fausta,'  '  the  very 
life  of  their  cause,'  '  the  people's  chief  trust,'  and  other 
broken  sentences  of  the  same  kind.  He  then  suddenly 
recommenced : 

'  Piso,  I  know  not  that  even  I  have  power  to  grant 
thy  suit.  I  have  saved,  with  some  hazard,  the  life  of 
the  Queen  and  her  daughter ;  in  doing  it  I  promised  to 
the  soldiers,  in  their  place,  the  best  blood  of  Palmyra, 
and  theirs  it  is  by  right.  It  will  not  be  easy  to  wrest 
Gracchus  from  their  hands.  It  will  bring  danger  to 
myself,  to  the  Queen,  and  to  the  empire.  It  may  breed 
a  fatal  revolt.  But,  Piso,  for  the  noble  Portia's  sake, 
the  living  representative  of  Cneius  Piso  my  early 
friend,  for  thine,  and  chiefly  for  the  reason  that  thou 
art  affianced  to  the  warlike  daughter  of  the  princely 
Palmy  re  ne — ' 

1  Great  Prince,'  said  I — for  it  was  now  my  turn  to 
speak, — '  pardon  me  that  I  break  in  upon  your  speech, 
but  I  cannot  by  a  deception,  however  slight  and  unin 
tentional,  purchase  the  life  even  of  a  friend.' 

'  To  what  does  this  tend  ? ' 

'  It  is  not  I  who  am  affianced  to  the  daughter  of 
Gracchus,  but  Calpurnius  Piso  my  brother  and  the 
enemy  of  Rome.  If  my  hope  for  Gracchus  rests  but 
where  you  have  placed  it,  it  must  be  renounced.  Ru 
mor  has  dealt  falsely  with  you.' 

4 1  am  sorry  for  it.  You  know  me,  Piso,  well  enough 
to  believe  me — I  am  sorry  for  it.  That  plea  would 
have  availed  me  more  than  any.  Yet  it  is  right  that 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  215 

he  should  die.  It  is  the  custom  of  war.  The  legions 
clamor  for  his  death — it  has  been  promised — it  is  due 
to  justice  and  revenge.  Piso,  he  must  die  ! ' 

I  however  did  not  cease  to  importune.  As  Aurelian 
had  spoken  of  Portia,  I  too  spoke  of  her,  and  refrained 
not  from  bringing  freshly  before  his  memory  the  char 
acters  of  both  my  parents,  and  especially  the  services 
of  my  father.  The  Emperor  was  noways  displeased, 
but  on  the  contrary,  as  I  recurred  to  the  early  periods 
of  his  career,  when  he  was  a  Centurion  in  Germany, 
under  tutelage  to  the  experienced  Cneius  Piso,  he 
himself  took  up  the  story,  and  detained  me  long  with 
the  history  of  his  life  and  actions,  while  serving  with 
and  under  my  father — and  then  afterward  when  in 
Gaul,  in  Africa,  and  in  the  East.  Much  curious  nar 
rative,  the  proper  source  of  history,  I  heard  from  the 
great  actor  himself,  during  this  long  interview.  It 
was  terminated  by  the  entrance  of  Sandarion,  upon 
pressing  business  with  the  Emperor,  whereupon  I  with 
drew,  Gracchus  not  being  again  named,  but  leaving 
his  fate  in  the  hands  of  the  master  of  the  world,  and 
yet — how  often  has  it  been  so  with  our  Emperors — the 
slave  of  his  own  soldiers.  I  returned  to  the  city. 

The  following  day  I  again  saw  Fausta — now  pale, 
melancholy  and  silent.  I  told  her  of  my  interview 
with  Aurelian,  and  of  its  doubtful  issue.  She  listened 
to  me  with  a  painful  interest,  as  if  wishing  a  favorable 
result,  yet  not  daring  to  hope.  When  I  had  ended, 
she  said, 

'  You  have  done  all,  Lucius,  that  can  be  done,  yet 
it  avails  little  or  nothing.  Would  that  Aurelian  had 
thought  women  worthy  his  regard  so  much  as  to  have 


216  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

made  me  a  prisoner  too.  I  can  now  feel  how  little 
one  may  fear  death,  dying  in  a  certain  cause.  Palmyra 
is  now  dead,  and  I  care  no  more  for  life.  And  if 
Gracchus  is  to  die  too,  how  much  rather  would  I  die 
with  him,  than  live  without  him.  And  this  is  not  as 
it  may  seem,  infidelity  to  Calpurnius.  I  love  him  bet 
ter  than  I  ever  thought  to  have  loved  anything  beside 
Palmyra  and  Gracchus.  But  my  love  for  these  is  from 
my  infancy,  and  is  in  reason  stronger  than  the  other. 
The  gods  make  it  so,  not  I.  I  love  Calpurnius  with 
all  that  is  left.  When  does  the  army  depart  ? ' 

1  To-morrow,  as  I  learn.  I  shall  follow  it  to  Emesa, 
for  it  is  there,  so  it  is  reported,  that  the  fate  of  the 
prisoners  will  be  decided.' 

*  Do  so,  Lucius,  and  by  bribery,  cunning,  or  force, 
find  your  way  to  the  presence  of  Gracchus.  Be  not 
denied.  Tell  him — but  no,  you  know  what  I  would 
say ;  I  cannot — '  and  a  passionate  flood  of  tears  came 
to  her  relief. 

The  preparations  of  the  army  are  now  completed. 
The  city  has  been  drained  of  its  wealth  and  its  embel 
lishments.  Scarce  anything  is  left  but  the  walls  and 
buildings,  which  are  uninjured,  the  lives  and  the  indus 
try  of  the  inhabitants.  Sandarion  is  made  Governor 
of  the  city  and  province,  with,  as  it  seems  to  me,  a 
very  incompetent  force  to  support  his  authority.  Yet 
the  citizens  are,  as  they  have  been  since  the  day  the 
contest  was  decided,  perfectly  peaceable — nay,  I  rather 
should  say,  stupid  and  lethargic.  There  appear  to  be 
on  the  part  of  Aurelian  no  apprehensions  of  future 
disturbance. 

I  have  stood  upon  the  walls  and  watched  till  the  last 


ZEN  OBI  A.  217 

of  the  Romans  has  disappeared  beyond  the  horizon. 

Two  days  have  been  spent  in  getting  into  motion  and 
beyond  the  precincts  of  the  city  and  suburbs,  the  army 
with  its  innumerable  wagons — its  long  trains  of  ele 
phants,  and  camels,  and  horses.  Not  only  Palmyra, 
but  the  whole  East,  seems  to  have  taken  its  departure 
for  the  Mediterranean.  For  the  carriages  were  hard 
ly  to  be  numbered  which  have  borne  away  for  the 
Roman  amphitheatres  wild  animals  of  every  kind, 
collected  from  every  part  of  Asia,  together  with  innu 
merable  objects  of  curiosity  and  works  of  art. 


VOL.  n.  19 


218 


ZENOB I A. 


LETTER    XVI. 

I  WRITE  to  you,  Curtius,  as  from  my  last  you  were 
doubtless  led  to  expect,  from  Emesa,  a  Syrian  town  of 
some  consequence,  filled  now  to  overflowing-  with  the 
Roman  army.  Here  Aurelian  reposes  for  a  while,  after 
the  fatigues  of  the  march  across  the  desert,  and  here 
justice  is  to  be  inflicted  upon  the  leaders  of  the  late 
revolt,  as  by  Rome  it  is  termed. 

The  prisons  are  crowded  with  the  great,  and  noble, 
and  good,  of  Palmyra.  All  those  with  whom  I  have 
for  the  last  few  months  mingled  so  much,  whose  hos 
pitality  I  have  shared,  whose  taste,  accomplishments, 
and  elegant  displays  of  wealth  I  have  admired,  are  now 
here  immured  in  dungeons,  and  awaiting  that  death 
which  their  virtues,  not  their  vices  nor  their  crimes, 
have  drawn  upon  them.  For  I  suppose  it  will  be 
agreed,  that  if  ever  mankind  do  that  which  claims  the 
name  and  rank  of  virtue,  it  is  when  they  freely  offer 
up  their  lives  for  their  country,  and  for  a  cause  which, 
whatever  may  be  their  misjudgment  in  the  case,  they 
believe  to  be  the  cause  of  liberty.  Man  is  then  greater 
in  his  disinterestedness,  in  the  spirit  with  which  he 
renounces  himself,  and  offers  his  neck  to  the  axe  of 
the  executioner,  than  he  can  be  clothed  in  any  robe  of 
honor,  or  sitting  upon  any  throne  of  power.  Which  is 
greater  in  the  present  instance,  Longinus,  Gracchus, 
Otho — or  Aurelian — I  cannot  doubt  for  a  moment; 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  219 

although  I  fear  that  you,  Curtius,  were  I  to  declare  my 
opinion,  would  hardly  agree  with  me.  Strange  that 
such  a  sacrifice  as  this  which  is  about  to  be  made,  can 
be  thought  to  be  necessary  !  It  is  not  necessary ;  nor 
can  Aurelian  himself  in  his  heart  deem  it  so.  It  is  a 
peace-offering  to  the  blood-thirsty  legions,  who,  well 
do  I  know  it — for  I  have  been  of  them — love  no  sight 
so  well  as  the  dying  throes  of  an  enemy.  It  is,  I  am 
told,  with  an  impatience  hardly  to  be  restrained  within 
the  bounds  of  discipline,  that  they  wait  for  the  moment, 
when  their  eyes  shall  be  feasted  with  the  flowing  blood 
and  headless  trunks  of  the  brave  defenders  of  Palmyra. 
I  see  that  this  is  so,  whenever  I  pass  by  a  group  of 
soldiers,  or  through  the  camp.  Their  conversation 
seems  to  turn  upon  nothing  else  than  the  vengeance 
due  to  them  upon  those  who  have  thinned  their  ranks 
of  one  half  their  numbers,  and  who,  themselves  shielded 
by  their  walls,  looked  on  and  beheld  in  security  the 
slaughter  which  they  made.  They  cry  out  for  the 
blood  of  every  Palmyrene  brought  across  the  desert. 
My  hope  for  Gracchus  is  small ;  not  more,  however, 
because  of  this  clamor  of  the  legions,  than  on  account 
of  the  stern  and  almost  cruel  nature  of  Aurelian  him 
self.  He  is  himself  a  soldier.  He  is  one  of  the  le 
gions.  His  sympathies  are  with  them,  one  of  whom 
he  so  long  has  been,  and  from  whom  he  sprang.  The 
gratifications  which  he  remembers  himself  so  often  to 
have  sought  and  so  dearly  to  have  prized,  he  is  willing 
to  bestow  upon  those  who  he  knows  feel  as  he  once 
did.  He  may  speak  of  his  want  of  power  to  resist  the 
will  of  the  soldiers  ;  but  I  almost  doubt  his  sincerity, 
since  nothing  can  equal  the  terror  and  reverence  with 


220  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

which  he  is  regarded  throughout  the  army ;  reverence 
for  his  genius,  terror  for  his  passions,  which,  when 
excited,  rage  with  the  fury  of  a  madman,  and  wreak 
themselves  upon  all  upon  whom  the  least  suspicion 
falls,  though  among  his  most  trusted  friends.  To  this 
terror,  as  you  well  know,  his  bodily  strength  greatly 
adds. 

It  was  my  first  office  to  seek  the  presence  of  Grac 
chus.  I  found,  upon  inquiry,  that  both  he  and  Longi- 
nus  were  confined  in  the  same  prison,  and  in  the 
charge  of  the  same  keeper.  I  did  not  believe  that  I 
should  experience  difficulty  in  gaining  admission  to 
them,  and  I  found  it  so. 

Applying  to  the  jailer  for  admittance  to  Gracchus 
the  Palmyrene,  I  was  told  that  but  few  were  allowed  to 
see  him,  and  such  only  whose  names  had  been  given 
him.  Upon  giving  him  my  name,  he  said  that  it  was 
one  which  was  upon  his  list,  and  I  might  enter.  'Make 
the  most  of  your  time,'  he  added,  *  for  to-morrow  is  the 
day  set  for  the  general  execution.' 

'  So  soon  ? '  I  said. 

'  Aye,'  he  replied,  '  and  that  is  scarce  soon  enough 
to  keep  the  soldiers  quiet.  Since  they  have  lost  the 
Queen,  they  are  suspicious  lest  the  others,  or  some  of 
them,  may  escape  too, — so  that  they  are  well  guarded, 
I  warrant  you.' 

'Is  the  Queen,'  I  asked,  'under  your  guard,  and 
within  the  same  prison?' 

'  The  Queen?'  he  rejoined,  and  lowering  his  tone 
added,  '  she  is  far  enough  from  here.  If  others  know 
it  not,  I  know  that  she  is  well  on  her  way  to  Eome. 
She  has  let  too  much  Roman  blood  for  her  safety  within 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  221 

reach  of  Roman  swords,  I  can  tell  you — Aurelian 
notwithstanding.  That  butchery  of  the  Centurions  did 
neither  any  good.' 

'  You  say  to-morrow  is  the  day  appointed  for  the 
execution  ?' 

'  So  I  said.  But  you  will  scarce  believe  it  when 
you  see  the  prisoners.  They  seem  rather  as  if  they 
were  for  Rome  upon  a  journey  of  pleasure,  than  so 
soon  for  the  axe.  But  walk  in.  And  when  you  would 
be  let  out,  make  a  signal  by  drawing  the  cord  which 
you  will  find  within  the  inner  ward.' 

I  passed  in,  and  meeting  another  officer  of  the  pris 
on,  was  by  him  shown  the  door  that  led  to  the  cell  of 
Gracchus,  and  the  cord  by  which  I  was  to  make  the 
necessary  signal. 

I  unbarred  the  door  and  entered.  Gracchus,  who 
was  pacing  to  and  fro  in  his  apartment,  upon  seeing 
who  his  visiter  was,  greeted  me  in  his  cordial,  cheerful 
way.  His  first  inquiry  was, 

*  Is  Fausta  well  ? ' 

'  I  left  her  well ;  well  as  her  grief  would  allow  her 
to  be.' 

'  My  room  is  narrow,  Piso,  but  it  offers  two  seats. 
Let  us  sit.  This  room  is  not  our  hall  in  Palmyra,  nor 
the  banqueting  room — this  window  is  too  small — nay, 
it  is  in  some  sort  but  a  crevice — and  this  ceiling  is  too 
W — and  these  webs  of  the  spider,  the  prisoner's 
friend,  are  not  our  purple  hangings — but  it  might  all 
be  worse.  I  am  free  of  chains,  I  can  walk  the  length 
of  my  room  and  back  again,  and  there  is  light  enough 
from  our  chink  to  see  a  friend's  face  by.  Yet  far  as 
these  things  are  from  worst,  I  trust  not  to  be  annoyed 
VOL.  n.  19* 


222  2  E  N  0  B  1  A  . 

or  comforted  by  them  long.  You  have  done  kindly, 
Piso,  to  seek  me  out  thus  remote  from  Palmyra,  and 
death  will  be  lighter  for  your  presence.  I  am  glad  to 
see  you.' 

*  I  could  not,  as  you  may  easily  suppose,  remain  in 
Palmyra,  and  you  here  and  thus.  For  Fausta's  sake 
and  my  own,  I  must  be  here.  Although  I  should  not 
speak  a  word,  nor  you,  there  is  a  happiness  in  being 
near  and  in  seeing.' 

'  There  is.  Confinement  for  a  long  period  of  time 
were  robbed  of  much  of  its  horror,  if  there  were  near 
you  but  a  single  human  countenance,  and  that  a  stran 
ger's,  upon  which  you  might  look,  especially  if  you 
might  read  there  pity  and  affection.  Then  if  this 
countenance  should  be  that  of  one  known  and  beloved, 
it  would  be  almost  like  living  in  society,  even  though 
speech  were  prohibited.  Tyrants  know  this — these 
walls  are  the  proof  of  it.  Aurelian  is  not  a  tyrant  in 
this  sense.  He  is  not  without  magnanimity.  Are  you 
here  with  his  knowledge?' 

'  By  his  express  provision.  The  jailer  had  been 
furnished  with  my  name.  You  are  right  surely,  touch 
ing  the  character  of  Aurelian.  Though  rude  and  un 
lettered,  and  severe  almost  to  cruelty,  there  are  generous 
sentiments  within  which  shed  a  softening  ligbt,  if 
inconstant,  upon  the  darker  traits.  I  would  conceal 
nothing  from  you,  Gracchus;  as  I  would  do  nothing 
without  your  approbation.  I  know  your  indifference 
to  life.  I  know  that  you  would  not  purchase  a  day  by 
any  unworthy  concession,  by  any  doubtful  act  or  word. 
Relying  with  some  confidence  upon  the  generosity  of 
Aurelian — ' 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  *  223 

1  Why,  Lucius,  so  hesitating  and  indirect  ?  You 
would  say  that  you  have  appealed  to  Aurelian  for  my 
life — and  that  hope  is  not  extinct  in  your  mind  of 
escape  from  this  appointed  death.' 

'  That  is  what  I  would  say.  The  Emperor  inclines 
to  spare  your  life,  but  wavers.  Shall  I  seek  another 
interview  with  him  ?  And  is  there  any  argument  which 
you  would  that  I  should  urge  ? — or — would  you  rather 
that  I  should  forbear  ?  It  is,  Gracchus,  because  I  feared 
lest  I  had  been  doing  you  a  displeasing  and  undesired 
service,  that  I  have  now  spoken.' 

'  Piso,  it  is  the  simple  truth  when  I  say  that  I  anti 
cipate  the  hour  and  the  moment  of  death  with  the  same 
indifference  and  composure  that  I  do  any,  the  most 
common  event.  I  have  schooled  myself  to  patience. 
Acquiescence  in  the  will  of  the  gods — if  gods  there  are 
—or  which  is  the  same  thing,  in  the  order  of  events, 
is  the  temper  which,  since  I  have  reflected  at  all,  I 
have  cultivated,  and  to  which  I  can  say  I  have  fully 
attained.  I  throw  myself  upon  the  current  of  life, 
unresisting,  to  be  wafted  withersoever  it  will.  I  look 
with  desire  neither  to  this  shore  nor  the  opposite,  to 
one  port  nor  another,  but  wherever  I  am  borne  and 
permitted  to  act,  I  straightway  find  there  and  in  that 
my  happiness.  Not  that  one  allotment  is  not  in  itself 
preferable  to  another,  but  that  there  being  so  much  of 
life  over  which  man  has  no  control,  and  cannot,  if  he 
would,  secure  his  felicity,  I  think  it  wiser  to  renounce 
all  action  and  endeavor  concerning  it — receiving  what 
is  sent  or  happens  with  joy  if  it  be  good,  without 
complaint  if  it  be  evil.  In  this  manner  have  I  secured 
an  inward  calm,  which  has  been  as  a  fountain  of  life. 


224  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

My  days,  whether  they  have  been  dark  ones  or  bright, 
as  others  term  them,  have  flowed  along  a  smooth  and 
even  current.  Under  misfortune,  I  believe  I  have 
enjoyed  more  from  this  my  inward  frame,  than  many 
a  son  of  prosperity  has  in  the  very  height  of  his  glory. 
That  which  so  disturbs  the  peace  of  multitudes  —  even 
of  philosophers  —  the  prospect  of  death,  has  occasioned 
me  not  one  moment's  disquiet.  It  is  true,  I  know  not 
what  it  is  —  do  I  know  what  life  is  ?  —  but  that  is  no 
reason  why  I  should  fear  it.  One  thing  I  know,  which 
is  this,  that  it  will  come,  as  it  comes  to  all,  and  that  I 
cannot  escape  it.  It  may  take  me  where  it  will,  I  shall 
be  content.  If  it  be  but  a  change,  and  I  live  again 
elsewhere,  I  shall  be  glad,  especially  if  I  am  then 
exempt  from  evils  in  my  condition  which  assail  me 
here  ;  if  it  be  extinction  of  being,  it  will  but  resemble 
those  nights  when  I  sleep  without  dreaming  —  it  will 
not  yield  any  delights,  but  it  will  not  bring  affright  nor 
torment.  I  desire  not  to  entertain,  and  I  do  not  en 
tertain  either  hope  or  fear.  I  am  passive.  My  will  is 
annihilated.  The  object  of  my  life  has  been  to  secure 
the  greatest  amount  of  pleasure  —  that  being  the  best 
thing  of  which  we  can  conceive.  This  I  have  done  by 
noting  right.  I  have  found  happiness,  or  that  which 
\vo  agree  to  call  so,  in  acting  in  accordance  with  that 
p.irt  of  my  nature  which  prescribes  the  lines  of  duty: 
not  in  any  set  of  philosophical  opinions;  not  in  expec 
tations  in  futurity;  not  in  any  fancies  or  dreams  ;  but 
in  the  substantial  reality  of  virtuous  action.  I  have 
sought  to  treat  both  myself  and  others  in  such  a  way, 
that  afterward  I  should  not  hear  from  either  a  single 
word  of  reproach.  In  this  way  of  life  I  have  for  the 


t 


Z  £  N  0  B  I  A  .  225 

most  part  succeeded,  as  any  one  can  who  will  apply 
his  powers  as  he  may  if  he  will.  I  have  at  this  hour, 
which  it  may  be  is  the  last  of  my  life,  no  complaints 
to  make  or  hear  against  myself.  So  too  in  regard  to 
others.  At  least  I  know  not  that  there  is  one  living 
whom  I  have  wronged,  and  to  whom  I  owe  the  least 
reparation.  Now  therefore  by  living  in  the  best  man 
ner  for  this  life  on  earth,  I  have  prepared  myself  in  the 
best  manner  for  death,  and  for  another  life,  if  there  be 
one.  If  there  be  none — still  what  I  have  enjoyed  I 
have  enjoyed,  and  it  has  been  more  than  any  other 
manner  of  life  could  have  afforded.  So  that  in  any 
event,  I  am  like  a  soldier  armed  at  all  points.  To  me, 
Piso,  to  die  is  no  more  than  to  go  on  to  live.  Both  are 
events  :  to  both  I  am  alike  indifferent ;  I  know  nothing 
about  either.  As  for  the  pain  of  death,  it  is  not  worthy 
a  moment's  thought,  even  if  it  were  considerable  •  but 
it  appears  to  me  that  it  is  not.  I  have  many  times 
witnessed  it,  and  it  has  ever  seemed  that  death,  so  far 
from  being  represented  by  any  word  signifying  pain, 
would  be  better  expressed  by  one  that  should  stand  for 
insensibility.  The  nearer  death  the  nearer  apathy. 
There  is  pain  which  often  precedes  it,  in  various  forms 
of  sickness  ;  but  this  is  sickness,  not  death.  Such 
pains  we  often  endure  and  recover ;  worse  often  than 
apparently  are  endured  by  those  who  die.' 

'  I  perceive  then,  Gracchus,  that  I  have  given  you 
neither  pain  nor  pleasure  by  any  thing  I  have  done.' 

'  Not  that  exactly.  It  has  given  me  pleasure  that 
you  have  sought  to  do  me  a  service.  For  myself,  it 
will  weigh  but  little  whether  you  succeed  or  fail.  Your 
intercession  has  not  displeased  me.  It  cannot  affect 


226  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

my  good  name.  For  Fausta's  sake — '  at  her  name  he 
paused  as  if  for  strength — *  and  because  she  wishes  it, 
I  would  rather  live  than  die.  Otherwise  my  mind  is 
even-poised,  inclining  neither  way,' 

*  But  would  it  not  afford  you,  Gracchus,  a  sensible 
pleasure,  if,  supposing  you  are  now  to  die,  you  could 
anticipate  with  certainty  a  future  existence  ?  You 
are  now,  you  say,  in  a  state  of  indifference,  as  to  life 
or  death  ?  Above  all  you  are  delivered  from  all  ap 
prehensions  concerning  death  and  futurity.  This  is, 
it  cannot  be  denied,  a  great  felicity.  You  are  able  to 
sit  here  calm  and  composed.  But  it  seems  to  me,  if 
you  were  possessed  of  a  certain  expectation  jof  -immor 
tality,  you  would  be  very  much  animated  and  trans 
ported,  as  it  were,  with  the  prospect  of  the  wonderful 
scenes  so  soon  to  be  revealed.  If,  with  such  a  belief, 
you  could  turn  back  your  eye  upon  as  faultless  and 
virtuous  a  life  as  you  have  passed,  you  would  cast  it 
forward  with  feelings  far  from  those  of  indifference.' 

'  What  you  assert  is  very  true  :  doubtless  it  would 
be  as  you  say.  I  can  conceive  that  death  may  be  ap 
proached  not  only  with  composure,  but  with  a  bursting 
impatience  ;  just  as  the  youthful  traveller  pants  to  leap 
from  the  vessel  that  bears  him  to  a  foreign  land.  This 
would  be  the  case  if  we  were  as  secure  of  another  and 
happier  life  as  we  are  certain  that  we  live  now.  In 
future  ages,  perhaps  through  the  discoveries  of  reason, 
perhaps  by  disclosures  from  superior  beings,  it  may  be 
so  universally,  and  death  come  to  be  regarded  even 
with  affection,  as  the  great  deliverer  and  rewarder. 
But  at  present  it  is  very  different ;  I  have  found  no 
evidence  to  satisfy  me  in  any  of  the  systems  of  ancient 


ZENOBIA.  227 

or  modern  philosophers,  from  Pythagoras  to  Seneca, 
and  our  own  Longinus,  either  of  the  existence  of  a 
God,  or  of  the  reality  of  a  future  life.  It  seems  to  me 
oftentimes  in  certain  frames  of  mind,  but  they  are 
transient,  as  if  both  were  true  ;  they  feel  true,  but  that 
is  all.  I  find  no  evidence  beyond  this  inward  feeling 
at  all  complete  and  sufficient ;  and  this  feeling  is  noth 
ing,  it  is  of  the  nature  of  a  dream,  I  cannot  rely  upon 
it.  So  that  I  have,  as  I  still  judge,  wisely  intrenched 
myself  behind  indifference.  I  have  never  indulged  in 
idle  lamentations  over  evils  that  could  not  be  removed, 
nor  do  I  now.  Submission  is  the  law  of  my  life,  the 
sum  of  my  philosophy.' 

'  The  Christians,'  I  here  said,  '  seem  to  possess  that 
which  all  so  much  desire,  a  hope,  amounting  to  a  certain 
expectation,  of  immortality.  They  all,  so  I  am  inform 
ed,  the  poor  and  the  humble,  as  well  as  the  rich  and 
the  learned,  live  while  they  live,  as  feeling  themselves 
to  be  only  passengers  here,  and  when  they  die,  die  as 
those  who  pass  from  one  stage  of  a  journey  to  another. 
To  them  death  loses  its  character  of  death,  and  is 
associated  rather  in  their  rninds  with  life.  It  is  a  be 
ginning  rather  than  an  ending;  a  commencement,  not 
a  consummation  ;  being  born,  not  dying.' 

'  So  I  have  heard  ;  but  I  have  never  considered  their 
doctrine.  The  Christian  philosophy  or  doctrine  is 
almost  the  only  one  of  all,  which  lay  claim  to  such  dis 
tinction,  that  I  have  not  studied.  I  have  been  repelled 
from  that  I  suppose  by  seeing  it  in  so  great  proportion 
the  property  of  the  vulgar.  What  they  so  rejoiced  in, 
it  has  appeared  to  me,  could  not  at  the  same  time  be 
what  would  yield  me  either  pleasure  or  wisdom.  At 


228  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

least  in  other  things  the  vulgar  and  the  refined  seek 
their  knowledge  and  their  pleasures  from  very  different 
sources.  I  cannot  conceive  of  the  same  philosophy 
approving  itself  to  both  classes.  Do  you  learn,  Piso, 
when  the  time  for  the  execution  of  the  prisoners  is 
appointed?' 

'  To-morrow,  as  I  heard  from  the  jailer.' 
'  To-morrow.  It  is  well.  Yet  I  marvel  that  the 
jailer  told  not  me.  I  am  somewhat  more  concerned  to 
know  the  hour  than  you,  yet  to  you  he  has  imparted 
what  he  has  withheld  from  me.  He  is  a  partial  knave. 
Have  you  yet  seen  Longinus  ? ' 

*  I  have  not,  but  shall  visit  him  in  the  morning.' 

*  Do  so.     He  will  receive  you  with  pleasure.     Tell 
me  if  he  continues  true  in  his  affections  for  the  Queen. 
His  is  a  great  trial,  laboring,  as  at  first  he  did,  to  turn 
her  from  the  measures  that  have  come  to  this  end ; 
now  dying,  because  at  last,  out  of  friendship  for  her 
rather  than  anything  else,  he  espoused  her  cause.     Yet 
it  is  almost  the  same  with  me.     And  for  myself,  the 
sweetest  feeling  of  this  hour  is,  that  I  die  for  Zenobia, 
and  that  perhaps  my  death  is  in  part  the  sacrifice  that 
spares  her.     Incomparable  woman  !  how  the  hearts  of 
those  who  have  known  thee  are  bound  to  thee,  so  that 
thy  very  errors  and  faults  are  esteemed  to  be  virtues  ! ' 

Our  conversation  here  ended,  and  I  turned  from  the 
prison,  resolved  to  seek  the  presence  of  Aurelian.  I 
did  so.  He  received  me  with  urbanity  as  before,  but 
neither  confirmed  my  hopes  nor  my  fears.  I  returned 
again  to  the  cell  of  Gracchus,  with  whom,  in  various, 
and  to  me  most  instructive  conversation,  we  passed  the 
remainder  of  the  day. 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  229 

In  the  morning,  with  a  spirit  heavy  and  sad,  burdened 
indeed  with  a  grief  such  as  I  never  before  had  expe 
rienced,  I  turned  to  seek  the  apartment  of  Longinus. 
It  was  not  far  from  that  of  Gracchus.  The  keeper  of 
the  prison  readily  admitted  me,  saying,  '  that  free 
intercourse  was  allowed  the  prisoners  with  all  whom 
it  was  their  desire  to  see,  and  that  there  were  several 
friends  of  Longinus  already  with  him.'  With  these 
words  he  let  fall  a  heavy  bar,  and  the  door  of  the  cell 
creaked  upon  its  hinges. 

The  room  into  which  I  passed  seemed  a  dungeon, 
rather  than  any  thing  else  or  better,  for  the  only  light 
it  had,  came  from  a  small  barred  window  far  above  the 
reach.  Longinus  was  seated  near  a  massy  central 
column,  to  which  he  was  bound  by  a  chain  ;  his  friends 
were  around  him,  with  whom  he  appeared  to  have 
been  engaged  in  earnest  conversation.  He  rose  as  I 
approached  him,  and  saluted  me  with  the  grace  that  is 
natural  to  him,  and  which  is  expressive,  not  more  of 
his  high  breeding,  than  of  an  inward  benevolence  that 
goes  forth  and  embraces  all  who  draw  near  him. 

*  Although,'  said  he,  '  I  am  forsaken  of  that  which 
men  call  fortune,  yet  I  am  not  forgotten  by  my  friends. 
So  that  the  best  things  remain.  Piso,  I  rejoice  truly 
to  see  you.  These  whom  you  behold  are  pupils  and 
friends  whom  you  have  often  met  at  my  house,  if  this 
dim  light  will  allow  you  to  distinguish  them.' 

'  My  eyes  are  not  yet  so  used  to  darkness  as  to  see 
with  much  distinctness,  but  I  recognise  well-known 
faces.' 

After  mutual  salutations,  Longinus  said,  *  Let  me 
VOL.  n.  20 


230  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

now  first  inquire  concerning  the  daughter  of  Gracchus, 
that  bright  emanation  of  the  Deity.  I  trust  in  the  gods 
she  is  well ! ' 

'  I  left  her,'  I  replied,  '  overwhelmed  by  sorrow.  To 
lose  at  once  country,  parent,  and  friends,  is  loss  too 
great  I  fear  for  her.  Death  to  Gracchus  will  be  death 
also  to  her.' 

'  The  temper  of  Fausta  is  too  sanguine,  her  heart  too 
warm :  she  was  designed  for  a  perpetual  prosperity. 
The  misfortunes  that  overtake  her  friends  she  makes 
more  than  her  own.  Others'  sufferings — her  own  she 
could  bear — falling  upon  her  so  thickly,  will,  if  they 
leave  her  life,  impart  a  lasting  bitterness  to  it.  It  were 
better  perhaps  that  she  died  with  us.  Gracchus  you 
have  found  altogether  Gracchus  ? ' 

'  I  have.  He  is  in  the  prison  as  he  was  in  his  own 
palace.  His  thoughts  will  sometimes  wander  to  his 
daughter — oftener  than  he  would — and  then  in  the 
mirror  of  the  face  you  behold  the  inward  sorrow  of 
the  heart,  but  it  is  only  a  momentary  ruffling  of  the 
surface,  and  straightway  it  is  calm  again.  Except  this 
only,  and  he  sits  upon  his  hard  seat  in  the  same  com 
posure  as  if  at  the  head  of  the  Senate.' 

'  Gracchus,'  said  Longinus  in  reply,  '  is  naturally 
great ;  he  is  a  giant !  the  ills  of  life,  the  greater  and 
the  lesser,  which  assail  and  subdue  so  many,  can  make 
nothing  of  him.  He  is  impenetrable,  immovable.  Then 
he  has  aided  nature  by  the  precepts  of  philosophy. 
What  he  wanted  of  insensibility  to  evil,  he  has  added 
from  a  doctrine,  to  which  he  himself  clings  tenaciously, 
to  which  he  refers  and  will  refer,  as  the  spring  of  his 
highest  felicity,  but  from  which  I — so  variously  are  we 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  231 

constituted— shrink  with  unfeigned  horror.  Doubtless 
you  all  know  what  it  is  ? ' 

'We  do.' 

4 1  grant  it  thus  much ;  that  it  steels  the  mind  against 
pain ;  that  it  is  unrivalled  in  its  power  to  sear  and 
harden  the  soul ;  and  that  if  it  were  man's  common 
lot  to  be  exposed  to  evil,  and  evil  chiefly,  it  were  a 
philosophy  to  be  greatly  coveted.  But  it  is  benumbing, 
deadening  in  its  influences.  It  oppresses  the  soul  and 
overlays  it ;  it  delivers  it  by  rendering  it  insensible, 
not  by  imparting  a  new  principle  of  vitality  beyond  the 
reach  of  earthly  ill.  It  does  the  same  service  that  a 
stupifying  draught  does  to  him  who  is  about  to  submit 
to  the  knife  of  the  surgeon,  or  the  axe  of  the  execu 
tioner.  But  is  it  not  nobler  to  meet  such  pains  fortified 
in  no  other  way  than  by  a  resolute  purpose  to  bear 
them  as  \vell  as  the  nature  the  gods  have  given  you 
will  allow  ?  And  suppose  you  shrink  or  give  signs  of 
suffering  ?  that  does  not  impeach  the  soul.  It  is  rather 
the  gods  themselves  who  cry  out  through  you  :  you  did 
not ;  it  was  your  corporeal  nature,  something  beside 
your  proper  self.  It  is  to  be  no  subject  of  humiliation 
to  us,  or  of  grief,  that  when  the  prospect  of  acute  suffer 
ing  is  before  us ;  or,  still  more,  when  called  to  endure 
it,  we  give  many  tokens  of  a  keen  sensibility ;  so  it 
be  that  at  the  same  time  we  remain  unshaken  in  our 
principles,  and  ready  to  bear  what  we  must.' 

'  And  what,'  asked  the  young  Cleoras,  a  favorite 
disciple  of  the  philosopher,  '  is  it  in  your  case  that 
enables  you  to  meet  misfortune  and  death  without 
shrinking  ?  If  you  take  not  shelter  behind  indifference, 
what  other  shield  do  you  find  to  be  sufficient  ? ' 


232  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

*  I  know,'  said  Longinus,  *  that  you  ask  this  question 
not  because  you  have  never  heard  from  me  virtually 
at  least  its  answer,  but  because  you  wish  to  hear  from 
me  at  this  hour,  whether  I  adhere  with  firmness  to  the 
principles  I  have  ever  inculcated,  respecting  death,  and 
whether  I  myself  derive  from  them  the  satisfactions  I 
have  declared  them  capable  to  impart.  It  is  right  and 
well  that  you  do  so.  And  I  on  my  part  take  pleasure 
in  repeating  and  re-affirming  what  I  have  maintained 
and  taught.  But  I  must  be  brief  in  what  I  say,  more 
so  than  I  have  been  in  replying  to  your  other  inquiries, 
Cleoras  and  Bassus,  for  I  perceive  by  the  manner  in 
which  the  rays  of  the  sun  shoot  through  the  bars  of  the 
window,  that  it  is  not  long  before  the  executioner  will 
make  his  appearance.  It  affords  me  then,  I  say,  a 
very  especial  satisfaction,  to  declare  in  the  presence  of 
so  many  worthy  friends,  my  continued  attachment  and 
hearty  devotion  to  the  truths  I  have  be  ieved  and 
taught,  concerning  the  existence  of  a  God,  and  the 
reality  of  a  future  and  immortal  life.  Upon  these  two 
great  points  I  suffer  from  no  serious  doubts,  and  it  is 
from  this  belief  that  I  now  derive  the  serenity  and 
peace  which  you  witness.  All  the  arguments  which 
you  have  often  heard  from  me  in  support  of  them,  now 
seem  to  me  to  be  possessed  of  a  greater  strength  than 
ever— I  will  not  repeat  them,  for  they  are  too  familiar 
to  you,  but  only  re-affirm  them,  and  pronounce  them, 
as  in  my  judgment,  affording  a  ground  for  our  assur 
ance  in  the  department  of  moral  demonstration,  as  solid 
and  sufficient  as  the  reasonings  of  Euclid  afford  in  the 
science  of  geometry.  I  believe  in  a  supreme  God  and 
sovereign  ruler  of  the  world,  by  whose  wisdom  and 


2  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  233 

power  all  things  and  beings  have  been  created,  and  are 
sustained,  and  in  whose  presence  I  live  and  enjoy,  as 
implicitly  as  I  believe  the  fifth  proposition  of  Euclid's 
first  book.  I  believe  in  a  future  life  with  the  like 
strength.  It  is  behind  these  truths,  Cleoras,  that  I 
entrench  myself  at  this  hour ;  these  make  the  shield 
which  defends  me  from  the  assaults  of  fear  and  despair, 
that  would  otherwise,  I  am  sure,  overwhelm  me.' 

'  But  how  do  they  defend  you,  Longinus,'  asked 
Cleoras — '  by  simply  rendering  you  inaccessible  to  the 
shafts  which  are  directed  against  you,  or  by  any  other 
and  higher  operation  upon  the  soul  ? ' 

'  Were  it  only,'  replied  the  philosopher,  '  that  truth 
made  me  insensible  and  indifferent,  I  should  pray  rather 
to  be  left  to  the  tutelage  of  nature.  I  both  despise  and 
abhor  doctrines  that  can  do  no  more  than  this.  I  desire 
to  bless  the  gods  that  the  philosophy  I  have  received 
and  taught  has  performed  for  me  a  far  more  essential 
service.  This  elevates  and  expands  :  it  renders  nature 
as  it  were  superior  to  itself  and  its  condition  :  it  causes 
the  soul  to  assert  its  entire  supremacy  over  iu  com 
panion,  the  body,  and  its  dwelling-place  the  earth,  and 
in  the  perfect  possession  of  itself  to  inhabit  a  better 
world  of  its  own  creation  :  it  infinitely  increases  all  its 
sensibilities,  and  adds  to  the  constitution  received  from 
nature,  what  may  be  termed  new  senses,  so  vividly 
does  it  come  to  apprehend  things,  which  to  those  who 
are  unenlightened  by  this  excellent  truth,  are  as  if  they 
had  no  existence,  their  minds  being  invested  with  no 
faculty  or  power  whereby  to  discern  and  esteem  them. 
So  far  from  carrying  those  who  embrace  it  farther 
toward  insensibility  and  indifference,  which  may  truly 
VOL.  ii.  20* 


234  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

be  called  a  kind  of  death,  it  renders  them  intensely 
alive,  and  it  is  through  the  transforming  energies  of 
this  new  life  that  the  soul  is  made  not  insensible  to 
pain,  but  superior  to  it,  and  to  all  the  greater  ills  of 
existence.  It  soars  above  them.  The  knowledge  and 
the  belief  that  fill  it  furnish  it  with  wings  by  which  it 
is  borne  far  aloft,  even  at  the  very  time  that  the  body 
is  in  the  deepest  affliction.  Gracchus  meets  deuth  with 
equanimity,  and  that  is  something.  It  is  better  than 
to  be  convulsed  with  vulgar  and  excessive  fear.  But 
it  is  a  state  of  the  soul  very  inferior  to  what  exists  in 
those  who  truly  receive  the  doctrines  which  I  have 
taught.  I,  Cleoras,  look  upon  death  as  a  release,  not 
from  a  life  which  has  been  wholly  evil,  for  I  have, 
through  the  favor  of  the  gods,  enjoyed  much,  but  frcm 
the  dominion  of  the  body  and  the  appetites  which  clog 
the  soul  and  greatly  hinder  it  in  its  efforts  after  a  per 
fect  virtue  and  a  true  felicity.  It  will  open  a  way  for 
me  into  those  elysian  realms  in  whose  reality  all  men 
have  believed,  a  very  few  excepted,  though  few  or  none 
could  prove  it.  Even  as-  the  great  Eoman  could  call 
that  "  0  glorious  day,"  that  should  admit  him  to  the 
council  of  the  gods,  and  the  society  of  the  great  and 
good  who  had  preceded  him,  so  can  I  in  like  manner 
designate  the  day  and  hour  which  are  now  present.  I 
shall  leave  you  whom  I  have  known  so  long ;  I  shall 
be  separated  from  scenes  familiar  and  beloved  through 
a  series  of  years  ;  the  arts  and  the  sciences,  which 
have  ministered  so  largely  to  my  happiness,  in  these 
forms  of  them  I  shall  lose ;  the  very  earth  itself,  ven 
erable  to  my  mind  for  the  events  which  have  passed 
upon  it,  and  the  genius  it  has  nurtured  and  matured, 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  235 

and  beautiful  too  in  its  array  of  forms  and  colors,  I  shall 
be  conversant  with  no  more.  Death  will  divide  me 
from  them  all :  but  it  will  bear  me  to  worlds  and  scenes 
of  a  far  exceeding  beauty :  it  will  introduce  me  to 
mansions  inconceivably  more  magnificent  than  any 
thing  which  the  soul  has  experience  of  here ;  above 
all  it  will  bring  me  into  the  company  of  the  good  of 
all  ages,  with  whom  I  shall  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  an 
uninterrupted  intercourse.  It  will  place  me  where  I~ 
shall  be  furnished  with  ample  means  for  the  prosecution 
of  all  those  inquiries  which  have  engaged  me  on  earth, 
exposed  to  none  or  fewer  of  the  hindrances  which 
have  here  thronged  the  way.  All  knowledge  and  all 
happiness  will  then  be  attainable.  Is  death  to  be  called 
an  evil,  or  is  it  to  be  feared  or  approached  with  tears 
and  regrets,  when  such  are  to  be  its  issues  ? ' 

'  By  no  means,'  said  Cleoras ;  'it  is  rather  to  be 
desired.  If  my  philosophy  were  as  deep  and  secure 
as  yours,  O  Longinus,  I  should  beg  to  exchange  places 
with  you.  I  should  willingly  suffer  a  brief  pain  to  be 
rewarded  so  largely.  But  I  find  within  me  no  such 
strong  assurance.' 

'  That,'  replied  Longinus,  '  is  for  want  of  reflection. 
It  is  only  by  conversing  with  itself  that  the  soul  rises 
to  any  height  of  faith.  Argument  from  abroad  is  of 
but  little  service  in  the  comparison.  I  have  often 
discoursed  with  you  concerning  these  things,  and  have 
laid  open  before  you  the  grounds  upon  which  my 
convictions  rest.  But  I  have  ever  taught  that  con 
sciousness  was  the  true  source  of  belief,  and  that  oi 
this  you  could  possess  yourselves  only  through  habit.? 
of  profound  attention.  What  I  believe  I  feel.  I  cannci 


236  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

communicate  the  strength  of  my  belief  to  another, 
because  it  is  mysteriously  generated  within,  inter 
weaving  itself  with  all  my  faculties  and  affections,  and 
abundantly  imparting  itself  to  them,  but  at  the  same 
time  inseparable  from  them  in  such  a  sense  that  I  can 
offer  it  as  I  can  a  portion  of  my  reason  or  my  know 
ledge,  to  any  whom  I  might  desire  to  benefit.  It  is  in 
truth  in  its  origin  the  gift  of  God,  strengthened  and 
exalted  infinitely  by  reflection.  It  is  an  instinct.  Were 
it  otherwise,  why  could  I  not  give  to  you  all  I  possess 
myself,  and  possess  because  I  have  by  labor  acquired 
it  ?  Whereas,  though  I  believe  so  confidently  myself, 
I  find  no  way  in  which  to  bestow  the  same  good  upon 
you.  But  each  one  will  possess  it,  I  am  persuaded,  in 
the  proportion  in  which  he  prepares  himself  by  a  pure 
life  and  habitual  meditation.  It  will  then  reveal  itself 
with  new  strength  every  day.  So  will  it  also  be  of 
service  to  contemplate  the  characters  and  lives  of  those 
who  have  lived  illustriously,  both  for  their  virtue  and 
their  philosophy.  To  study  the  character  of  Plato  will 
be  more  beneficial  in  this  regard  than  to  ponder  the 
arguments  of  the  Phoedo.  Those  arguments  are  trivial, 
fanciful,  and  ingenious,  rather  than  convincing.  And 
the  great  advantage  to  be  derived  from  the  perusal  of 
that  treatise  is,  as  it  shall  be  regarded  as  a  sublime 
expression  of  the  confidence  with  which  its  author 
entertained  the  hope  of  immortality.  It  is  as  a  part  of 
Plato's  biography — of  the  history  of  his  mind — that  it 
is  valuable.  Through  meditation,  through  inward 
purity,  through  the  contemplation  of  bright  examples, 
will  the  soul  be  best  prepared  for  the  birth  of  that 
feeling  or  conviction  that  shall  set  before  you  with  the 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  237 

distinctness  and  certainty  of  actual  vision  the  prospect 
of  immortality.' 

'  But  are  there,  Longinus,  after  all,  no  waverings  of 
the  mind,  no  impertinent  doubts,  no  overcasting  shad 
ows,  which  at  all  disturb  your  peace,  or  impair  the 
vividness  of  your  faith  ?  Are  you  wholly  superior  to 
fear — the  fear  of  suffering  and  death  ? ' 

'  That  is  not,  Cleoras,  so  much  to  ask  whether  I  still 
consider  my  philosophy  as  sufficient,  and  whether  it 
be  so,  as  whether  or  not  I  am  still  a  man,  and  therefore 
a  mixed  and  imperfect  being.  But  if  you  desire  the 
assurance,  I  can  answer  you,  and  say  that  I  am  but  a 
man,  and  therefore  notwithstanding  my  philosophy 
subject  to  infirmity  and  to  assaults  from  the  body,  which 
undoubtedly  occasion  me  some  distress.  But  these 
seasons  are  momentary.  I  can  truly  affirm,  that  al-" 
though  there  have  been  and  still  are  conflicts,  the  soul 
is  ever  conqueror,  and  that  too  by  very  great  odds. 
My  doubts  and  fears  are  mere  flitting  shadows ;  my 
hope,  a  strong  and  unchanging  beam  of  light.  The 
body  sometimes  slips  from  beyond  my  control  and 
trembles,  but  the  soul  is  at  the  very  same  time  secure 
in  herself  and  undaunted.  I  present  the  same  apparent 
contradiction  that  the  soldier  often  does  upon  the  field 
of  battle  ;  he  trembles  and  turns  pale  as  he  first  springs 
forward  to  encounter  the  foe,  but  his  arm  is  strong  and 
his  soul  determined  at  the  very  same  moment,  and  no 
death  nor  suffering  in  prospect  avails  to  alarm  or  turn 
him  back.  Do  not  therefore,  although  I  should  exhibit 
signs  of  fear,  imagine  that  rny  soul  is  terrified,  or  that 
I  am  forsaken  of  those  steadfast  principles  to  which 
have  given  in  my  allegiance  for  so  long  a  time.' 

*  We  will  not,  Longinus,'  said  they  all. 


238  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

Longinus  here  paused,  and  seemed  for  a  time  buried 
in  meditation.  We  were  all  silent — or  the  silence  was 
broken  only  by  the  sobs  of  those  who  could  not  restrain 
their  grief. 

'  I  have  spoken  to  you,  my  friends,'  he  at  length 
resumed,  '  of  the  hope  of  immortality,  of  the  strength 
it  yields,  and  of  its  descent  from  God.  But  think  not 
that  this  hope  can  exist  but  in  the  strictest  alliance  with 
virtue.  The  hope  of  immortality  without  virtue  is  a 
contradiction  in  terms.  The  perpetuation  of  vice,  or  of 
any  vicious  affections  or  desires,  can  be  contemplated 
only  with  horror.  If  the  soul  be  without  virtue,  it  is 
better  that  it  should  perish.  And  if  deep  stained  with 
vice,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  very  principle  of  life 
may  be  annihilated.  As  then  you  would  meet  the 
final  hour,  not  only  with  calmness,  but  with  pleasant 
expectations,  cherish  virtue  in  your  souls;  reverence  the 
divinity  ;  do  justly  by  all ;  obey  your  instincts,  which 
point  out  the  right  and  the  wrong;  keep  yourselves 
pure ;  subdue  the  body.  As  virtue  becomes  a  habit 
and  a  choice,  and  the  soul,  throughout  all  its  affections 
and  powers,  harmonizes  with  nature  and  God,  will  the 
hope  of  immortality  increase  in  strength  till  it  shall 
grow  to  a  confident  expectation.  Remember  that  virtue 
is  the  golden  key,  and  the  only  one,  that  unlocks  the 
gates  of  the  celestial  mansions.' 

I  here  asked  Longinus  if  he  was  conscious  of  having 
been  influenced  in  any  of  his  opinions  by  Christianity. 
'  I  know,'  I  said,  '  that  in  former  conversations  you 
have  ever  objected  to  that  doctrine.  Does  your  judg 
ment  remain  the  same  £ ' 
**  *  I  have  not  read  the  writings  of  the  Christians,  yet 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  239 

am  I  not  wholly  ignorant  of  them,  since  it  were  impos 
sible  to  know  with  such  familiarity  the  Princess  Julia, 
and  not  arrive  at  some  just  conceptions  of  what  that 
religion  is.  But  I  have  not  received  it.  Yet  even  as 
a  piece  of  polished  metal  takes  a  thousand  hues  from 
surrounding  objects,  so  does  the  mind ;  and  mine  may 
have  been  unconsciously  colored  and  swayed  by  the 
Jtruths  of  Christianity,  which  I  have  heard  so  often 
stated  and  defended.  Light  may  have  fallen  upon  it 
from'that  quarter  as  well  as  from  others.  I  doubt  not 
that  it  has.  For  although  I  cannot  myself  admit  that 
doctrine,  yet  am  I  now,  and  have  ever  been,  persuaded 
of  its  excellence,  and  that  upon  such  as  can  admit  it,  it 
must  exert  a  power  altogether  beneficial.  But  let  us 
now,  for  the  little  time  that  remains,  turn  to  other  things. 
Piso,  know  you  aught  concerning  the  Queen  ?  I  have 
not  seen  her  since  the  day  of  her  flight,  nor  have  I 
heard  concerning  her  that  which  I  could  trust.' 

I  then  related  at  length  all  that  I  knew. 

'  Happy  would  it  have  been  for  her  and  for  all,  had 
my  first  counsels  prevailed  !  Yet  am  I  glad  that  for 
tune  spares  her.  May  she  live  to  hear  of  Palmyra  once 
more  restored  to  opulence  and  glory.  I  was  happy  in 
her  service.  I  am  now  happy,  if  by  my  death,  as  by 
my  life,  I  can  avert  from  her  evil  that  otherwise  might 
overtake  her.  For  her,  or  for  the  Princess,  there  is 
no  extremity  I  would  not  endure,  as  there  have  been 
no  services  I  have  not  rejoiced  to  perform.  The  only 
favor  I  have  asked  of  Aurelian  was,  to  be  permitted  a 
last  interview  with  my  great  pupils;  it  did  not  agree 
with  my  opinions  of  him,  that  I  was  denied  so  reasona 
ble  a  request.' 


240  e  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

*  Perhaps,'  said  I,  '  it  is  in  my  power  to  furnish  the 
reason,  having  been  informed,  since  reaching  Emesa^ 
that  the  Queen,  with  her  attendants  and  the  Princesses, 
had  been  sent  on  secretly  toward  Rome,  that  they 
might  be  placed  beyond  the  risk  of  violence  on  the  part 
of  the  legions.  He  himself  was  doubtful  of  his  power 
to  protect  them.' 

'  For  the  sake  of  both  am  I  glad  to  hear  the  explana 
tion,'  replied  Longinus. 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  the  sound  of  steps  was 
heard  as  of  several  approaching  the  door  of  the  room. 
Then  the  heavy  bar  of  the  door  was  let  fall,  and  the 
key  turned  in  the  wards  of  the  lock.  We  knew  that 
the  last  moments  of  Longinus  had  arrived.  Although 
knowing  this  so  well,  yet  we  still  were  not  ready  for  it, 
and  a  horror  as  of  some  unlooked-for  calamity  came 
over  us.  Cleoras  wept  without  restraint;  and  threw 
himself  down  before  Longinus,  embraced  his  knees, 
and  as  the  officers  entered  and  drew  near,  warned  them 
away  with  threatening  language.  It  was  with  difficul 
ty  that  Longinus  calmed  him.  He  seemed  to  have 
lost  the  possession  of  his  reason. 

The  jailer,  followed  by  a  guard,  now  came  up  to 
Longinus,  and  informed  him  that  the  hour  appointed 
for  his  execution  had  arrived. 

Longinus  replied,  '  that  he  was  ready  to  go  with 
him,  but  must  first,  when  his  chains  were  taken  off,  be 
permitted  to  address  himself  to  the  gods.  For,'  said 
he,  '  we  ought  to  undertake  no  enterprise  of  moment, 
especially  ought  we  not  to  venture  into  any  unknown 
and  untried  scenes  without  first  asking  their  guidance, 
who  alone  have  power  to  carry  us  safely  through.' 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  241 

'  This  we  readily  grant,'  replied  the  jailer ;  who  then 
taking  his  hammer  struck  off  the  chain  that  was  bound 
around  the  middle  of  his  body. 

Longinus  then,  without  moving  from  where  he  sat, 
bent  his  head,  and  covering  his  face  with  his  hands 
remained  a  few  moments  in  that  posture.  The  apart 
ment  was  silent  as  if  no  one  had  been  in  it.  Even 
Cleoras  was  by  that  sight  taught  to  put  a  restraint  upon 
the  expression  of  his  feelings. 

When  these  few  moments  were  ended,  Longinus 
raised  his  head,  and  with  a  bright  and  smiling  coun 
tenance  said  to  the  jailer  that  he  was  now  ready. 

He  then  went  out  in  company  with  the  guard  and 
soldiers,  we  following  in  sad  procession.  The  place 
of  execution  was  in  front  of  the  camp,  all  the  legions 
being  drawn  round  to  witness  it.  Aurelian  himself 
was  present  among  them. 

Soon  as  we  came  in  sight  of  that  fatal  place,  and  of 
the  executioner  standing  with  his  axe  lifted  upon  his 
shoulder,  Longinus  suddenly  stopped,  his  face  became 
pale  and  his  frame  trembled.  He  turned  and  looked 
upon  us  who  were  immediately  behind  him,  and  held 
up  his  hands,  but  without  speaking,  which  was  as  much 
as  to  say,  *  you  perceive  that  what  I  said  was  very 
likely  to  happen  has  come  to  pass,  and  the  body  has 
obtained  a  momentary  triumph.'  He  paused  however 
not  long,  making  then  a  sign  to  the  soldiers  that  he 
was  ready  to  proceed.  After  a  short  walk  from  that 
spot  we  reached  the  block  and  the  executioner. 

'  Friend,'  said  he  now  to  the  executioner,  '  I  hope 
your  axe  is  sharp,  and  that  you  are  skilful  in  your  art; 

VOL.  II.  21 


242  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

and  yet  it  is  a  pity  if  you  have  had  so  much  practice 
as  to  have  become  very  dexterous  in  it.' 

1  Ten  years  service  in  Rome,'  he  replied,  '  may  well 
make  one  so,  or  he  must  be  born  with  little  wit.  Dis 
trust  not  my  arm,  for  it  has  never  failed  yet.  One 
blow,  and  that  a  light  one,  is  all  I  want,  if  it  be  as  it 
ought,  a  little  slanting.  As  for  this  edge — feel  it  if 
thou  wilt — it  would  do  for  thy  beard.' 

Longinus  had  now  divested  himself  of  whatever 
parts  of  his  garments  would  obstruct  the  executioner 
in  his  duty,  and  was  about  to  place  his  head  in  the 
prescribed  place,  when  he  first  turned  to  us  and  again 
held  out  his  hands,  which  now  trembled  no  longer. 

'  You  see,'  said  he,  in  a  cheerful  voice,  '  that  the  soul 
is  again  supreme.  Love  and  cultivate  the  soul,  my 
good  friends,  and  you  will  then  be  universal  conquerors, 
and  throughout  all  ages.  It  will  never  betray  you. 
Now,  my  new  friend,  open  for  me  the  gates  of  immor 
tality,  for  you  are  in  truth  a  celestial  porter.'  So  saying, 
he  placed  himself  as  he  was  directed  to  do,  and  at  a 
single  blow,  as  he  had  been  promised,  the  head  of 
Longinus  was  severed  from  his  body. 

Neither  the  head  nor  the  body  was  delivered  to  the 
soldiers,  nor  allowed  to  be  treated  with  disrespect. 
This  favor  we  had  obtained  of  Aurelian.  So  after  the 
executioner  had  held  up  the  head  of  the  philosopher, 
and  shown  it  to  the  soldiers,  it  was  together  with  the 
body  given  to  our  care,  and  by  us  sent  to  Palmyra. 

On  this  same  day  perished  Otho,  Seleucus,  Gabrayas, 
Nicanor — all,  in  a  word,  of  the  Queen's  council,  and 
almost  all  of  the  senate.  Some  were  reserved  for 
execution  at  another  time,  and  among  these  I  found,  as  I 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  243 

went  sadly  toward  the  cell  of  Gracchus,  was  the  father 
of  Fausta. 

The  keeper  of  the  prison  admitted  me  with  a  more 
cheerful  air  than  before,  and  with  a  significant  shake 
of  the  head.  I  heeded  him  but  little,  pressing  on  to 
meet  Gracchus. 

'  So,'  I  exclaimed,  « it  is  not  to-day' — 

'No,'  rejoined  Gracchus,  visibly  moved,  'nor  to 
morrow,  Piso.  Read  here.'  And  placing  a  parchment 
in  my  hand,  turned  away. 

It  contained  a  full  and  free  remission  of  punishment, 
and  permission  to  return  immediately  to  Palmyra. 

'  The  gods  be  praised !  the  gods  be  praised  ! '  I  cried 
as  I  embraced  him.  '  Is  not  this  better,  Gracchus  ? ' 

'  It  is,'  said  he,  with  emphasis.  '  It  is  a  great  boon, 
I  do  not  deny  it.  For  Fausta's  sake  I  rejoice — as  for 
myself,  all  is  strictly  true  which  I  have  said  to  you. 
But  I  forget  all  now,  save  Fausta  and  her  joy  and 
renewed  life.  Would,  0  would,  that  Longinus  could 
have  returned  to  Palmyra  with  me  ! ' — and  then,  for 
the  first  time,  Gracchus  gave  way  to  grief,  and  wept 
aloud. 

In  the  morning  we  set  out  for  Palmyra.     Farewell. 


244  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 


LETTER    XVII. 

I  WRITE  again  from  Palmyra. 

We  arrived  here  after  a  day's  hard  travel.  The 
sensation  occasioned  by  the  unexpected  return  of 
Gracchus  seemed  to  cause  a  temporary  forgetfulness 
of  their  calamities  on  the  part  of  the  citizens.  As  we 
entered  the  city  at  the  close  of  the  day,  and  they  re 
cognised  their  venerated  friend,  there  were  no  bounds 
to  the  tumultuous  expressions  of  their  joy.  The  whole 
city  was  abroad.  It  were  hard  to  say  whether  Fausta 
herself  was  more  pained  by  excess  of  pleasure,  than 
was  each  citrzen  who  thronged  the  streets  as  we  made 
our  triumphal  entry. 

A  general  amnesty  of  the  past  having  been  proclaim 
ed  by  Sandarion  immediately  after  the  departure  of 
Aurelian  with  the  prisoners  whom  he  chose  to  select, 
we  found  Calpurnius  already  returned.  At  Fausta's 
side  he  received  us  as  we  dismounted  in  the  palace- 
yard.  I  need  not  tell  you  how  we  passed  our  first 
evening.  Yet  it  was  one  of  very  mixed  enjoyment. 
Fausta's  eye,  as  it  dwelt  upon  the  beloved  form  of  her 
father,  seemed  to  express  unalloyed  happiness.  But 
then  again,  as  it  was  withdrawn  at  those  moments  when 
his  voice  kept  not  her  attention  fixed  upon  himself,  she 
fell  back  upon  the  past  and  the  lost,  and  the  shadows 
of  a  deep  sadness  would  gather  over  her.  So  in  truth 
was  it  with  us  all — especially,  when  at  the  urgency  of 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  245 

the  rest,  I  related  to  them  the  interviews  I  had  had 
with  Longinus,  and  described  to  them  his  behavior  in 
the  prison  and  at  the  execution. 

'  I  think,'  said  Fausta,  *  that  Aurelian,  in  the  death 
of  Longinus,  has  injured  his  fame  far  more  than  by  the 
capture  of  Zenobia  and  the  reduction  of  Palmyra  he 
has  added  to  it.  Posterity  will  not  readily  forgive  him 
for  putting  out,  in  its  meridian  blaze,  the  very  brightest 
light  of  the  age.  It  surely  was  an  unnecessary  act.' 

*  The   destruction  of  prisoners,  especially  those  of 
rank  and  influence,  is,'  said  I,  '  according  to  the  savage 
usages   of  war — and  Aurelian   defends   the   death   of 
Longinus  by  saying,  that  in  becoming  the  first  adviser 
of  Zenobia,  he  was  no  longer  Longinus  the  philosopher, 
but  Longinus  the  minister  and  rebel.' 

*  That  will  be  held,'  she  replied,  '  as  a  poor  piece  of 
sophistry.     He  was  still  Longinus.     And  in  killing 
Longinus  the  minister,  he  basely  slew  Longinus  the 
renowned  philosopher,  the  accomplished   scholar,  the 
man  of  letters  and  of  taste ;  the  great  man  of  the  age ; 
for  you  will  not  say  that  either  in  Rome   or  Greece 
there  now  lives  his  equal.' 

'  Fausta,'  said  Gracchus,  'you  are  right.  And  had 
Aurelian  been  any  more  or  higher  than  a  soldier,  he 
would  not  have  dared  to  encounter  the  odium  of  the 
act ;  but  in  simple  truth  he  was,  I  suppose,  and  is  utter 
ly  insensible  to  the  crime  he  has  committed,  not  against 
an  individual  or  Palmyra,  but  against  the  civilized 
world  and  posterity ;  a  crime  that  will  grow  in  its 
magnitude  as  time  rolls  on,  and  will  forever  and  to  the 
'remotest  times  blast  the  fame  and  the  name  of  him  who 
VOL.  n. 


S46  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

did  it.  Longinus  belonged  to  all  times  and  people, 
and  by  them  will  be  avenged.  Aurelian  could  not 
understand  the  greatness  of  his  victim,  and  was  igno 
rant  that  he  was  drawing  upon  himself  a  reproach 
greater  than  if  he  had  sacrificed  in  his  fury  the  Queen 
herself,  and  half  the  inhabitants  of  Palmyra.  He  will 
find  it  out  when  he  reaches  Rome.  He  will  find  him 
self  as  notorious  there,  as  the  murderer  of  Longinus, 
as  he  will  be  as  conqueror  of  the  East.' 

'  There  was  one  sentiment  of  Aurelian,'  I  said, 
'  which  he  expressed  to  me  when  I  urged  upon  him 
the  sparing  of  Longinus,  to  which  you  must  allow  some 
greatness  to  attach.  I  had  said  to  him  that  it  was 
greater  to  pardon  than  to  punish,  and  that  for  that  rea 
son — "  Ah,"  he  replied,  interrupting  me,  "  I  may  not 
gain  to  myself  the  fame  of  magnanimity  at  the  expense 
of  Rome.  As  the  chief  enemy  of  Rome  in  this  rebel 
lion,  Rome  requires  his  punishment,  and  Rome  is  the 
party  to  be  satisfied,  not  I."  ' 

'  I  grant  that  there  is  greatness  in  the  sentiment.  If 
he  was  sincere,  all  we  can  say  is  this — that  he  mis 
judged  in  supposing  Rome  to  need  the  sacrifice.  She 
needed  it  not.  There  were  enough  heads  like  mine, 
of  less  worth,  that  would  do  for  the  soldiers — for  they 
are  Rome  in  Aurelian's  vocabulary.' 

'  Men  of  humanity  and  of  letters,'  I  replied,  «  will,  I 
suppose,  decide  upon  this  question  one  way,  politicians 
and  soldiers  another.' 

'  That,  T  believe,'  rejoined  Gracchus,  *  is  nearly  the 
truth.' 

When  wearied  by  a  prolonged  conversation,  we 
sought  the  repose  of  our  pillows ;  each  one  of  us  hap- 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A .  247 

pier  by  a  large  and  overflowing  measure  than  but  two 
days  before  we  had  ever  thought  to  be  again. 

The  city  is  to  all  appearance  tranquil  and  acquiescent 
under  its  bitter  chastisement.  The  outward  aspect  is 
calm  and  peaceful.  The  gates  are  thrown  open,  and 
the  merchants  and  traders  are  returning  to  the  pursuits 
of  traffic;  the  gentry  and  nobles  are  engaged  in  refitting 
and  re-embellishing  their  rifled  palaces  ;  and  the  com 
mon  people  have  returned  in  quiet  to  the  several  chan 
nels  of  their  industry. 

I  have  made  however  some  observations,  which  lead 
me  to  believe  that  all  is  not  so  settled  and  secure  as  it 
seems  to  be,  and  that  however  the  greater  proportion 
of  the  citizens  are  content  to  sit  down  patiently  under 
the  rule  of  their  new  masters,  others  are  not  of  their 
mind.  I  can  perceive  that  Antiochus,  who  under  the 
general  pardon  proclaimed  by  Sandarion  has  returned 
to  the  city,  is  the  central  point  of  a  good  deal  of  interest 
among  a  certain  class  of  citizens.  He  is  again  at  the 
head  of  the  same  licentious  and  desperate  crew  as 
before  ;  a  set  of  men,  like  himself,  large  in  their  re 
sources,  lawless  in  their  lives,  and  daring  in  the  pursuit 
of  whatever  object  they  set  before  them.  To  one  who 
knows  the  men,  their  habits  and  manners,  it  is  not 
difficult  to  see  that  they  are  engaged  in  other  plans  than 
appear  upon  the  surface.  Yet  are  their  movements  so 
quietly  ordered  as  to  occasion  no  general  observation 
or  remark.  Sandarion,  ignorant  whence  danger  might 
be  expected  to  arise,  appears  not  to  indulge  suspicions 
of  one  nor  another.  Indeed,  from  the  smallness  of  the 
garrison,  from  the  whole  manner  both  of  the  governor 
and  those  who  are  under  him,  soldiers  and  others,  it  is 


248  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

evident  that  no  thought  of  a  rising  <  n  the  part  of  the 
populace  has  entered  their  minds. 

A  few  days  have  passed,  and  Gracchus  and  Fausta, 
who  inclined  not  to  give  much  heed  to  my  observations, 
hoth  think  with  me — indeed,  to  Gracchus  communica 
tion  has  been  made  of  the  existence  of  a  plot  to  rescue 
the  city  from  the  hands  of  the  Romans,  in  which  he 
has  been  solicited  to  join. 

Antiochus  himself  has  sought  and  obtained  an  in 
terview  with  Gracchus. 

Gracchus  has  not  hesitated  to  reject  all  overtures 
from  that  quarter.  We  thus  learn  that  the  most  despe 
rate  measures  are  in  agitation — weak  and  preposterous 
too  as  they  are  desperate,  and  must  in  the  end  prove 
ruinous.  Antiochus,  we  doubt  not,  is  a  tool  in  the 
hands  of  others,  but  he  stands  out  as  the  head  and  centre 
of  the  conspiracy.  There  is  a  violent  and  a  strong 
party,  consisting  chiefly  of  the  disbanded  soldiers,  but 
of  some  drawn  from  every  class  of  the  inhabitants, 
whose  object  is  by  a  sudden  attack  to  snatch  the  city 
from  the  Roman  garrison  ;  and  placing  Antiochus  on 
the  throne,  proclaim  their  independence  again,  and 
prepare  themselves  to  maintain  and  defend  it.  They 
make  use  of  Antiochus  because  of  his  connection  with 
Zenobia,  and  the  influence  he  would  exert  through  that 
prejudice,  and  because  of  his  sway  over  other  families 
among  the  richest  and  most  powerful,  especially  the 
two  princes,  Herennianus  and  Timolaus — and  because 
of  his  fool-hardiness.  If  they  should  fail,  he,  they 
imagine,  will  be  the  only  or  the  chief  sacrifice — and  he 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  249 

can  well  be  spared.  If  they  succeed,  it  will  be  an  easy 
matter  afterward  to  dispose  of  him,  if  his  character  or 
measures  as  their  king  should  displease  them,  and  exalt 
some  other  and  worthier  in  his  room. 

'  And  what,  father,'  said  Fausta,  *  said  you  to  Anti- 
ochus?' 

'  I  told  him,'  replied  Gracchus,  '  what  I  thought,  that 
the  plan  struck  me  not  only  as  frantic  and  wild,  but 
foolish — that  I  for  myself  should  engage  in  no  plot  of 
any  kind,  having  in  view  any  similar  object,  much  less 
in  such  a  one  as  he  proposed.  I  told  him  that  if  Pal 
myra  was  destined  ever  to  assert  its  supremacy  and 
independence  of  Rome,  it  could  not  be  for  many  years 
to  come,  and  then  by  watching  for  some  favorable 
juncture  in  the  affairs  of  Rome  in  other  parts  of  the 
world.  It  might  very  well  happen,  I  thought,  that  in 
the  process  of  years,  and  when  Palmyra  had  wholly 
recruited  her  strength  after  her  late  and  extreme  suffer 
ings — that  there  might  occur  some  period  of  revolution 
or  inward  commotion  in  the  Roman  empire,  such  as 
would  leave  her  remote  provinces  in  a  comparatively 
unprotected  state.  Then  would  be  the  time  for  re-as 
serting  our  independence  ;  then  we  might  spring  upon 
our  keepers  with  some  good  prospect  of  overpowering 
them,  and  taking  again  to  ourselves  our  own  govern 
ment.  But  now,  I  tried  to  convince  him,  it  was  utter 
madness,  or  worse,  stupidity,  to  dream  of  success  in 
such  an  enterprise.  The  Romans  were  already  inflam 
ed  and  angry  ;  not  half  appeased  by  the  bloody  offering 
that  had  just  been  made;  their  strength  was  undimin- 
ished — for  what  could  diminish  the  strength  of  Rome? 
— and  a  rising  could  no  sooner  take  place,  than  her 


250  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

legions  would  again  be  upon  us,  and  our  sufferings 
might  be  greater  than  ever.  I  entreated  him  to  pause, 
and  to  dissuade  those  from  action  who  were  connected 
with  him.  I  did  not  hesitate  to  set  before  him  a  lively 
picture  of  his  own  hazard  in  the  affair;  that  he,  if 
failure  ensued,  would  be  the  first  victim.  I  urged 
moreover,  that  a  few,  as  I  held  his  number  to  be,  had 
no  right  to  endanger,  by  any  selfish  and  besotted  con 
duct,  the  general  welfare,  the  lives  and  property  of  the 
citizens ;  that  not  till  he  felt  he  had  the  voice  of  the  peo 
ple  with  him  ought  he  to  dare  to  act ;  and  that  although 
I  should  not  betray  his  councils  to  Sandarion,  I  should 
to  the  people,  unless  I  received  from  him  ample  assur 
ance  that  no  movement  should  be  made  without  a  full 
disclosure  of  the  project  to  all  the  principal  citizens,  as 
representatives  of  the  whole  city.' 

*  And  how  took  he  all  that  ? '  we  asked. 

'  He  was  evidently  troubled  at  the  vision  I  raised  of 
his  own  head  borne  aloft  upon  a  Roman  pike,  and  not 
a  little  disconcerted  at  what  I  labored  to  convince  him 
were  the  rights  of  us  all  in  the  case.  I  obtained  from 
him  in  the  end  a  solemn  promise  that  he  would  com 
municate  what  I  had  said  to  his  companions,  and  that 
they  would  forbear  all  action  till  they  had  first  obtained 
the  concurrence  of  the  greater  part  of  the  city.  I 
assured  him  however,  that  in  no  case  and  under  no 
conceivable  circumstances  could  he  or  others  calculate 
upon  any  co-operation  of  mine.  Upon  any  knowledge 
which  I  might  obtain  of  intended  action,  I  should 
withdraw  from  the  city.' 

1  It  is  a  sad  fate,'  said  Fausta,  c  that  having  just 
escaped  with  our  lives  and  the  bare  walls  of  our  city 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A 


251 


and  dwellings  from  the  Romans,  we  are  now  to  become 
the  prey  of  a  wicked  faction  among  ourselves.  But, 
can  you  trust  the  word  of  Antiochus  that  he  will  give 
you  timely  notice  if  they  go  on  to  prosecute  the  affair  ? 
Will  they  not  now  work  in  secret  all  the  more,  and 
veil  themselves  even  from  the  scrutiny  of  citizens  ? ' 

'  I  hardly  think  they  can  escape  the  watchful  eyes 
that  will  be  fixed  upon  them,'  replied  Gracchus  ;  '  nor 
do  I  believe  that  however  inclined  Antiochus  might  be 
to  deceive  me,  those  who  are  of  his  party  would  agree 
to  such  baseness.  There  are  honorable  men,  however 
deluded,  in  his  company.' 

Several  days  have  passed,  and  our  fears  are  almost 
laid.  Antiochus  and  the  princes  have  been  seen  as 
usual  frequenting  the  more  public  streets,  lounging  in 
the  Portico,  or  at  the  places  of  amusement.  And  the 
evenings  have  been  devoted  to  gayety  and  pleasure — 
Sandarion  himself,  and  the  officers  of  his  legion,  being 
frequent  visiters  at  the  palace  of  Antiochus,  and  at  that 
of  the  CaBsars,  lately  the  palace  of  Zenobia. 

During  this  interval  we  have  celebrated  with  all 
becoming  rites  the  marriage  of  Fausta  and  Calpurnius, 
hastened  at  the  urgency  of  Gracchus,  who  feeling  still 
very  insecure  of  life,  and  doubtful  of  the  continued 
tranquillity  of  the  city,  wished  to  bestow  upon  Calpur 
nius  the  rights  of  a  husband,  and  to  secure  to  Fausta 
the  protection  of  one.  Gracchus  seems  happier  and 
lighter  of  heart  since  this  has  been  done — so  do  we  all. 
It  was  an  occasion  of  joy,  but  as  much  of  tears  also. 
An  event  which  we  had  hoped  to  have  been  graced  by 
the  presence  of  Zenobia,  Julia,  and  Longinus,  took 


252  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

place  almost  in  solitude  and  silence.     But  of  this  I 
have  written  fully  to  Portia. 

That  which  we  have  apprehended  has  happened. 
The  blow  has  been  struck,  and  Palmyra  is  again,  in 
name  at  least,  free  and  independent. 

Early  on  the  morning  after  the  marriage  of  Fausta, 
we  were  alarmed  by  the  sounds  of  strife  and  commotion 
in  the  streets — by  the  cries  of  those  who  pursued,  and 
of  those  who  fled  and  fought.  It  was  as  yet  hardly 
light.  But  it  was  not  difficult  to  know  the  cause  of  the 
uproar,  or  the  parties  engaged.  We  seized  our  arms, 
and  prepared  ourselves  for  defence,  against  whatever 
party,  Roman  or  Palmyrene,  should  make  an  assault. 
The  preparation  was  however  needless,  for  the  contest 
was  already  decided.  The  whole  garrison,  with  the 
brave  Sandarion  at  their  head,  has  been  massacred,  and 
the  power  of  Palmyra  is  in  the  hands  of  Antiochus  and 
his  adherents.  There  has  been  in  truth  no  fighting,  it 
has  been  the  murder  rather  of  unprepared  and  defence 
less  men.  The  garrison  was  cut  off  in  detail  while 
upon  their  watch  by  overwhelming  numbers.  Sanda 
rion  was  despatched  in  his  quarters,  and  in  his  bed,  by 
the  very  inhuman  wretches  at  whose  tables  he  had 
just  been  feasted,  from  whom  he  had  but  a  few  hours 
before  parted,  giving  and  receiving  the  signs  of  friend 
ship.  The  cowardly  Antiochus  it  was  who  stabbed 
him  as  he  sprang  from  his  sleep,  encumbered  and  dis 
abled  by  his  night-clothes.  Not  a  Roman  has  escaped 
with  his  life. 

Antiochus  is  proclaimed  king,  and  the  streets  of  the 
city  have  resounded  with  the  shouts  of  this  deluded 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  253 

people,  crying,  *  long  live  Antiochus  ! '  He  has  been 
borne  in  tumult  to  the  great  portico  of  the  temple  of 
the  Sun,  where,  with  the  ceremonies  prescribed  for  the 
occasion,  he  has  been  crowned  king  of  Palmyra  and 
of  the  East. 

While  these  things  were  in  progress — the  new  king 
entering  upon  his  authority,  and  the  government  form 
ing  itself — Gracchus  chose  and  acted  his  part. 

'  There  is  little  safety,'  he  said,  *  for  me  now,  I  fear, 
anywhere — but  least  of  all  here.  But  were  I  secure 
of  life,  Palmyra  is  now  to  be  a  desecrated  and  polluted 
place,  and  I  would  fain  depart  from  it.  I  could  not 
remain  in  it,  though  covered  with  honor,  to  see  Anli- 
ochus  in  the  seat  of  Zenobia,  and  Critias  in  the  chair 
of  Longinus.  I  must  go,  as  I  respect  myself  and  as  I 
desire  life.  Antiochus  will  bear  me  no  good  will,  and 
no  sooner  will  he  have  become  easy  in  his  seat  and 
secure  of  his  power,  than  he  will  begin  the  work  for 
which  his  nature  alone  fits  him,  of  cold-blooded  revenge, 
cruelty,  and  lust.  I  trust  indeed  that  his  reign  will 
end  before  that  day  shall  arrive — but  it  may  not — and 
it  will  be  best  for  me  and  for  you,  my  children,  to  re 
move  from  his  sight.  If  he  sees  us  not,  he  may  forget 
us.' 

We  all  gladly  assented  to  the  plan  which  he  then 
proposed.  It  was  to  withdraw  privately  as  possible  to 
one  of  his  estates  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  city,  and 
there  await  the  unfolding  of  the  scenes  that  remained 
yet  to  be  enacted.  The  plan  was  at  once  carried  into 
effect.  The  estate  to  which  we  retreated  was  about 
four  Roman  miles  from  the  walls,  situated  upon  an 
eminence,  and  overlooking  the  city  and  the  surrounding 
VOL.  n.  22 


254  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

plains.  Soon  as  the  shadows  of  the  evening  of  the 
first  day  of  the  reign  of  Antiochus  had  fallen,  we 
departed  from  Palmyra,  and  within  an  hour  found  our 
selves  upon  a  spot  as  wild  and  secluded  as  if  it  had 
been  within  the  hosom  of  a  wilderness.  The  building 
consists  of  a  square  tower  of  stone,  large  and  lofty, 
built  originally  for  purposes  of  war  and  defence,  but 
now  long  occupied  by  those  who  have  pursued  the 
peaceful  labors  of  husbandry.  The  wildness  of  the 
region,  the  solitariness  of  the  place,  the  dark  and 
frowning  aspect  of  the  impregnable  tower,  had  pleased 
the  fancy  of  both  Gracchus  and  Fausta,  and  it  has  been 
used  by  them  as  an  occasional  retreat  at  those  times 
when,  wearied  of  the  sound  and  sight  of  life,  they  have 
needed  perfect  repose.  A  few  slaves  are  all  that  are 
required  to  constitute  a  sufficient  household. 

Here,  Curtius,  notwithstanding  the  troubled  aspect 
of  the  times,  have  we  passed  a  few  days  of  no  moderate 
enjoyment.  Had  there  been  no  other,  it  would  have 
been  enough  to  sit  and  witness  the  happiness  of  Cal- 
purnius  and  Fausta.  But  there  have  been  and  are 
other  sources  of  satisfaction  as  you  will  not  doubt.  We 
have  how  leisure  to  converse  at  such  length  as  we 
please  upon  a  thousand  subjects  which  interest  us. 
Seated  upon  the  rocks  at  nightfall,  or  upon  the  lofty 
battlements  of  the  tower,  or  at  hot  noon  reclining 
beneath  the  shade  of  the  terebinth  or  palm,  we  have 
tasted  once  again  the  calm  delights  we  experienced  at 
the  Queen's  mountain  palace.  In  this  manner  have 
we  heard  from  Calpurnius  accounts  every  way  instruc 
tive  and  entertaining  of  his  life  while  in  Persia ;  of  the 
character  and  acts  of  Sapor ;  of  the  condition  of  that 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  255 

empire,  and  its  wide-spread  population.  Nothing 
seems  to  have  escaped  his  notice  and  investigation. 
At  these  times  and  places  too  do  I  amuse  and  enlighten 
the  circle  around  me  by  reading  such  portions  of  your 
letters  and  of  Portia's  as  relate  to  matters  generally 
interesting — and  thus  too  do  we  discuss  the  times,  and 
speculate  upon  the  events  with  which  the  future  labors 
in  relation  to  Palmyra. 

In  the  mean  time  we  learn  that  the  city  is  given  up 
to  festivity  and  excess.  Antiochus  himself  possessing 
immense  riches,  is  devoting  these,  and  whatever  the 
treasury  of  the  kingdom  places  within  his  reach,  to  the 
entertainment  of  the  people  with  shows  and  games  after 
the  Roman  fashion,  and  seems  really  to  have  deluded 
the  mass  of  the  people  so  far  as  to  have  convinced 
them  that  their  ancient  prosperity  has  returned,  and 
that  he  is  the  father  of  their  country,  a  second  Odena- 
tus.  He  has  succeeded  in  giving  to  his  betrayal  of  the 
Queen  the  character  and  merit  of  a  patriotic  act,  at  least 
with  the  creatures  who  uphold  him — and  there  are  no 
praises  so  false  and  gross  that  they  are  not  heaped  upon 
him,  and  imposed  upon  the  people  in  proclamations, 
and  edicts.  The  ignorant — and  where  is  it  that  they 
are  not  the  greater  part — stand  by,  wonder  and  believe. 
They  cannot  penetrate  the  wickedness  of  the  game  that 
has  been  played  before  them,  and  by  the  arts  of  the 
king  and  his  minions  have  already  been  converted  into 
friends  and  supporters. 

The  defence  of  the  city  is  not,  we  understand,  wholly 
neglected ;  but  having  before  their  eyes  some  fear  of 
retribution,  troops  are  again  levied  and  organized,  and 
the  walls  beginning  to  be  put  into  a  state  of  preparation. 


256  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

But  this  is  all  of  secondary  interest,  and  is  postponed 
to  any  object  of  more  immediate  and  sensual  gratifica 
tion. 

But  there  are  large  numbers  of  the  late  Queen's 
truest  friends,  who  with  Gracchus  look  on  in  grief  and 
terror  even,  at  the  order  of  things  that  has  arisen,  and 
prophesying  with  him  a  speedy  end  to  it,  either  from 
interior  and  domestic  revolution,  or  a  return  of  the 
Roman  armies,  accompanied  in  either  case  of  course  by 
a  wide-spread  destruction,  have  with  him  also  secretly 
withdrawn  from  the  city,  and  fled  either  to  some  neigh 
boring  territory,  or  retreated  to  the  fastnesses  of  the 
rural  districts.  Gracchus  has  not  ceased  to  warn  all 
whom  he  knows  and  chiefly  esteems  of  the  dangers  to 
be  apprehended,  and  urge  upon  them  the  duty  of  a 
timely  escape. 

Messengers  have  arrived  from  Antiochus  to  Gracchus, 
with  whom  they  have  held  long  and  earnest  conference, 
the  object  of  which  has  been  to  induce  him  to  return  to 
the  city,  and  resume  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  Senate, 
the  king  well  knowing  that  no  act  of  his  would  so 
much  strengthen  his  power  as  to  be  able  to  number 
Gracchus  among  his  friends.  But  Gracchus  has  not 
so  much  as  wavered  in  his  purpose  to  keep  aloof  from 
Antiochus  and  all  concern  with  his  affairs.  His  con 
tempt  and  abhorrence  of  the  king  would  not  however, 
he  says,  prevent  his  serving  his  country,  were  he 
not  persuaded  that  in  so  short  a  time  violence  of  some 
sort  from  without  or  within  would  prostrate  king  and 
government  in  the  dust. 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  257 

It  was  only  a  few  days  after  the  messengers  from 
Antiochus  had  paid  their  visit  to  Gracchus,  that  as  we 
were  seated  upon  a  shaded  rock,  not  far  from  the  tower, 
listening  to  Fausta  as  she  read  to  us,  we  were  alarmed 
by  the  sudden  irruption  of  Milo  upon  our  seclusion, 
breathless,  except  that  he  could  just  exclaim,  '  The 
Romans  !  The  Romans  ! '  As  he  could  command  his 
speech,  he  said,  'that  the  Roman  army  could  plainly 
be  discerned  from  the  higher  points  of  the  land,  rapidly 
approaching  the  city,  of  which  we  might  satisfy  our 
selves  by  ascending  the  tower.' 

'  Gods !  can  it  be  possible,'  exclaimed  Gracchus, 
*  that  Aurelian  can  himself  have  returned  ?  He  must 
have  been  well  on  his  way  to  the  Hellespont  ere  the 
conspiracy  broke  out.' 

1 1  can  easily  believe  it,'  I  replied,  as  we  hastened 
toward  the  old  tower,  '  from  what  I  have  known  and 
witnessed  of  the  promptness  and  miraculous  celerity  of 
his  movements.' 

As  we  came  out  upon  the  battlements  of  the  tower, 
not  a  doubt  remained  that  it  was  indeed  the  Romans 
pouring  in  again  like  a  flood  upon  the  plains  of  the 
now  devoted  city.  Far  as  the  eye  could  reach  to  the 
west,  clouds  of  dust  indicated  the  line  of  the  Roman 
march,  while  the  van  was  already  within  a  mile  of  the 
very  gates.  The  roads  leading  to  the  capital,  in  every 
direction,  seemed  covered  with  those  who,  at  the  last 
moment,  ere  the  gates  were  shut,  had  rushed  forth  and 
were  flying  to  escape  the  impending  desolation.  All 
bore  the  appearance  of  a  city  taken  by  surprise  and 
utterly  unprepared ;  as  we  doubted  not  was  the  case 
VOL.  H.  22* 


258 


Z  E  N  O  BI  A 


from  what  we  had  observed  of  its  actual  state,  and  from 
the  suddenness  of  Aurelian's  return  and  approach. 

'  Now,'  said  Fausta,  '  I  can  believe  that  the  last  days 
of  Palmyra  have  arrived.  It  is  impossible  that  Antio- 
chus  can  sustain  the  siege  against  what  will  now  be 
the  tenfold  fury  of  Aurelian  and  his  enraged  soldiers.' 

A  very  few  days  will  suffice  for  its  reduction,  if  long 
before  it  be  not  again  betrayed  into  the  power  of  the 
assailants. 

We  have  watched  with  intense  curiosity  and  anxiety 
the  scene  that  has  been  performing  before  our  eyes. 
We  are  not  so  remote  but  that  we  can  see  with  con 
siderable  distinctness  whatever  takes  place,  sometimes 
advancing  and  choosing  our  point  of  observation  upon 
some  nearer  eminence. 

After  one  day  of  preparation  and  one  of  assault  the 
city  has  fallen,  and  Aurelian  again  entered  in  triumph ; 
this  time  in  the  spirit  of  revenge  and  retaliation.  It 
is  evident,  as  we  look  on  horror-struck,  that  no  quarter 
is  given,  but  that  a  general  massacre  has  been  ordered, 
both  of  soldier  and  citizen.  We  can  behold  whole 
herds  of  the  defenceless  populace  escaping  from  the 
gates  or  over  the  walls,  only  to  be  pursued — hunted — 
and  slaughtered  by  the  remorseless  soldiers.  And 
thousands  upon  thousands  have  we  seen  driven  over 
the  walls,  or  hurled  from  the  battlements  of  the  lofty 
towers  to  perish,  dashed  upon  the  rocks  below.  Fausta 
cannot  endure  these  sights  of  horror,  but  retires  and 
hides  herself  in  her  apartments. 

No  sooner  had  the  evening  of  this  fatal  day  set  in, 
than  a  new  scene  of  terrific  sublimity  opened  before  us 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  259 

as  we  beheld  flames  beginning  to  ascend  from  every 
part  of  the  city.  They  grew  and  spread  till  they 
presently  appeared  to  wrap  all  objects  alike  in  one  vast 
sheet  of  fire.  Towers,  pinnacles  and  domes,  after 
glittering  awhile  in  the  fierce  blaze,  one  after  another 
fell  and  disappeared  in  the  general  ruin.  The  Temple 
of  the  Sun  stood  long  untouched,  shining  almost  with 
the  brightness  of  the  sun  itself,  its  polished  shafts  and 
sides  reflecting  the  surrounding  fire  with  an  intense 
brilliancy.  We  hoped  that  it  might  escape,  and  were 
certain  that  it  would,  unless  fired  from  within — as  from 
its  insulated  position  the  flames  from  the  neighboring 
buildings  could  not  reach  it.  But  we  watched  not  long 
ere  from  its  western  extremity  the  fire  broke  forth,  and 
warned  us  that  that  peerless  monument  of  human  ge 
nius,  like  all  else,  would  soon  crumble  to  the  ground. 
To  our  amazement  however  and  joy,  the  flames,  after 
having  made  great  progress,  were  suddenly  arrested, 
and  by  some  cause  extinguished ;  and  the  vast  pile 
stood  towering  in  the  centre  of  the  desolation,  of  double 
size  as  it  seemed,  from  the  fall  and  disappearance  of  so 
many  of  the  surrounding  structures. 

'  This,'  said  Fausta,  *  is  the  act  of  a  rash  and  passion 
ate  man.  Aurelian,  before  to-morrow's  sun  is  set,  will 
himself  repent  it.  "What  a  single  night  has  destroyed, 
a  century  could  not  restore.  This  blighted  and  ruined 
capital,  as  long  as  its  crumbling  remains  shall  attract 
the  gaze  of  the  traveller,  will  utter  a  blasting  malediction 
upon  the  name  and  memory  of  Aurelian.  Hereafter 
he  will  be  known,  not  as  conqueror  of  the  East  and  the 
restorer  of  the  Roman  Empire,  but  as  the  executioner 
of  Longinus  and  the  ruthless  destroyer  of  Palmyra.' 


260  2  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

*  I  fear  that  you  prophesy  with  too  much  truth,'  I 
replied.     '  Rage  and  revenge  have  ruled  the  hour,  and 
have  committed  horrors  which  no  reason  and  no  policy 
either  of  the  present  or  of  any  age,  will  justify.' 

*  It  is  a  result  ever  to  be  expected,'  said  Gracchus, 
1  so  long  as  mankind  will  prefer  an  ignorant,  unlettered 
soldier  as  their  ruler.      They  can  look  for  nothing 
different  from  one  whose  ideas  have  been  formed  by 
the  camp  alone — whose  vulgar  mind  has  never  been 
illuminated  by  study  and  the  knowledge  of  antiquity. 
Such  a  one  feels  no  reverence  for  the  arts,  for  learn 
ing,  for  philosophy,  nor  for  man  as  man — he  knows 
not  what  these  mean — power  is  all  he  can  comprehend, 
and  all  he  worships.     As  long  as  the  army  furnishes 
Rome  with  her  emperors,  so  long  may  she  know  that 
her  name  will,  by  acts  like  these,  be  handed  down  to 
posterity  covered  with  the  infamy  that  belongs  to  the 
polished  savage — the  civilized  barbarian.    Come,  Faus- 
ta,  let  us  now  in  and  hide  ourselves  from  this  sight — 
too  sad  and  sorrowful  to  gaze  upon.' 

*  I  can  look  now,  father,  without  emotion,'  she  replied ; 
*  a  little  sorrow  opens  all  the  fountains  of  grief — too 
much  seals  them.     I  have  wept  till  I  can  weep  no  more. 
My  sensibility  is,  I  believe,  by  this  succession  of  ca 
lamities  dulled  till  it  is  dead.' 

Aurelian,  we  learn,  long  before  the  fire  had  completed 
its  work  of  destruction,  recalled  the  orders  he  had  given, 
and  labored  to  arrest  the  progress  of  the  flames.  In 
this  he  to  a  considerable  extent  succeeded,  and  it  was 
owing  to  this  that  the  great  temple  was  saved,  and 
others  among  the  most  costly  and  beautiful  structures. 

On  the  third  day  after  the  capture  of  the  city  and 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  261 

the  massacre  of  the  inhabitants,  the  army  of  the  '  con 
queror  and  destroyer'  withdrew  from  the  scene  of  its 
glory,  and  again  disappeared  beyond  the  desert.  I 
sought  not  the  presence  of  Aurelian  while  before  the 
city,  for  I  cared  not  to  meet  him  drenched  in  the  blood 
of  women  and  children.  But  as  soon  as  he  and  his 
legions  were  departed,  we  turned  toward  the  city,  as 
children  to  visit  the  dead  body  of  a  parent. 

No  language  which  I  can  use,  my  Curtius,  can  give 
you  any  just  conception  of  the  horrors  which  met  our 
view  on  the  way  to  the  walls  and  in  the  city  itself. 
For  more  than  a  mile  before  we  reached  the  gates,  the 
roads,  and  the  fields  on  either  hand,  were  strewed  with 
the  bodies  of  those  who,  in  their  attempts  to  escape, 
had  been  overtaken  by  the  enemy  and  slain.  Many  a 
group  of  bodies  did  we  notice,  evidently  those  of  a 
family,  the  parents  and  the  children,  who,  hoping  to 
reach  in  company  some  place  of  security,  had  all — and 
without  resistance  apparently — fallen  a  sacrifice  to  the 
relentless  fury  of  their  pursuers.  Immediately  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  walls  and  under  them  the  earth  was 
concealed  from  the  eye  by  the  multitudes  of  the  slain, 
and  all  objects  were  stained  with  the  one  hue  of  blood. 
Upon  passing  the  gates  and  entering  within  those  walls 
which  I  had  been  accustomed  to  regard  as  embracing 
in  their  wide  and  graceful  sweep  the  most  beautiful 
city  of  the  world,  my  eye  met  naught  but  black  and 
smoking  ruins,  fallen  houses  and  temples,  the  streets 
choked  with  piles  of  still  blazing  timbers  and  the  half- 
burned  bodies  of  the  dead.  As  I  penetrated  farther 
into  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  to  its  better  built  and 
more  spacious  quarters,  I  found  the  destruction  to  be 


262  2  E  N  0  B  1  A  . 

less — that  the  principal  streets  were  standing,  and  many 
of  the  more  distinguished  structures.  But  every  where 
— in  the  streets — upon  the  porticos  of  private  and  public 
dwellings — upon  the  steps  and  within  the  very  walls 
of  the  temples  of  every  faith — in  all  places,  the  most 
sacred  as  well  as  the  most  common,  lay  the  mangled 
carcasses  of  the  wretched  inhabitants.  None  appa 
rently  had  been  spared.  The  aged  were  there,  with 
their  silvered  heads — little  children  and  infants 
— women,  the  young,  the  beautiful,  the  good — all 
were  there,  slaughtered  in  every  imaginable  way,  and 
presenting  to  the  eye  spectacles  of  horror  and  of  grief 
enough  to  break  the  heart  and  craze  the  brain.  For 
one  could  not  but  go  back  to  the  day  and  the  hour  when 
they  died,  and  suffer  with  these  innocent  thousands  a 
part  of  what  they  suffered,  when  the  gates  of  the  city 
giving  way,  the  infuriated  soldiery  poured  in,  and  with 
death  written  in  their  faces  and  clamoring  on  their 
tongues,  their  quiet  houses  were  invaded,  and  resist 
ing  or  unresisting,  they  all  fell  together  beneath  the 
murderous  knives  of  the  savage  foe.  What  shrieks 
then  rent  and  filled  the  air — what  prayers  of  agony 
went  up  to  the  gods  for  life  to  those  whose  ears  on 
mercy's  side  were  adders' — what  piercing  supplica 
tions  that  life  might  be  taken  and  honor  spared  !  The 
apartments  of  the  rich  and  the  noble  presented  the  most 
harrowing  ,  spectacles,  where  the  inmates,  delicately 
nurtured,  and  knowing  of  danger,  evil  and  wrong  only 
by  name  and  report,  had  first  endured  all  that  nature 
most  abhors,  and  then,  there  where  their  souls  had 
died,  were  slain  by  their  brutal  violators  with  every 
circumstance  of  most  demoniac  cruelty.  Happy  for 


Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  .  263 

those  who,  like  Gracchus,  foresaw  the  tempest  and 
fled.  These  calamities  have  fallen  chiefly  upon  the 
adherents  of  Antiochus ;  but  among  them,  alas !  were 
some  of  the  noblest  and  most  honored  families  of  the 
capital.  Their  bodies  now  lie  blackened  and  bloated 
upon  their  door-stones — their  own  halls  have  become 
their  tombs. 

We  sought  together  the  house  of  Gracchus.  We 
found  it  partly  consumed,  partly  standing  and  uninjured. 
The  offices  and  one  of  the  rear  wings  were  burned 
and  level  with  the  ground,  but  there  the  flames  had 
been  arrested,  and  the  remainder,  comprising  all  the 
principal  apartments,  stands  as  it  stood  before.  The 
palace  of  Zenobia  has  escaped  without  harm — its  lofty 
walls  and  insulated  position  were  its  protection.  The 
Long  Portico,  with  its  columns,  monuments,  and  in 
scriptions,  remains  also  untouched  by  the  flames  and 
unprofaned  by  any  violence  from  the  wanton  soldiery. 
The  fire  has  fed  upon  the  poorer  quarters  of  the  city, 
where  the  buildings  were  composed  in  greater  propor 
tion  of  wood,  and  spared  most  of  the  great  thorough 
fares,  principal  avenues,  and  squares  of  the  capital, 
which,  being  constructed  in  the  most  solid  manner  of 
stone,  resisted  effectually  all  progress  of  the  flames, 
and  though  frequently  set  on  fire  for  the  purpose  of 
their  destruction,  the  fire  perished  from  a  want  of  ma 
terial,  or  it  consumed  but  the  single  edifice  where  it 
was  kindled. 

The  silence  of  death  and  of  ruin  rests  over  this  once 
and  but  so  lately  populous  city.  As  I  stood  upon  a 
high  point  which  overlooked  a  large  extent  of  it,  I 
could  discern  no  signs  of  life,  except  here  and  there  a 


264  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

detachment  of  the  Roman  guard  dragging  forth  the 
bodies  of  the  slaughtered  citizens,  and  bearing  them  to 
be  burned  or  buried.  This  whole  people  is  extinct. 
In  a  single  day  these  hundred  thousands  have  found  a 
common  grave.  Not  one  remains  to  bewail  or  bury 
the  dead.  Where  are  the  anxious  crowds,  who  when 
their  dwellings  have  been  burned,  eagerly  rush  in  as 
the  flames  have  spent  themselves  to  sorrow  over  their 
smoking  altars,  and  pry  with  busy  search  among  the 
hot  ashes,  if  perchance  they  may  yet  rescue  some 
lamented  treasure,  or  bear  away  at  least  the  bones  of 
a  parent  or  a  child,  buried  beneath  the  ruins  ?  They 
are  not  here.  It  is  broad  day,  and  the  sun  shines 
bright,  but  not  a  living  form  is  seen  lingering  about 
these  desolated  streets  and  squares.  Birds  of  prey  are 
already  hovering  round,  and  alighting  without  appre 
hension  of  disturbance  wherever  the  banquet  invites 
them ;  and  soon  as  the  shadows  of  evening  shall  fall, 
the  hyena  of  the  desert  will  be  here  to  gorge  himself 
upon  what  they  have  left,  having  scented  afar  off  upon 
the  tainted  breeze  the  fumes  of  the  rich  feast  here 
spread  for  him.  These  Roman  grave-diggers  from  the 
legion  of  Bassus,  are  alone  upon  the  ground  to  contend 
with  them  for  their  prize.  O,  miserable  condition  of 
humanity  !  Why  is  it  that  to  man  have  been  given 
passions  which  he  cannot  tame,  and  which  sink  him 
below  the  brute  !  Why  is  it  that  a  few  ambitious  are 
permitted  by  the  Great  Ruler,  in  the  selfish  pursuit  of 
their  own  aggrandizement,  to  scatter  in  ruin,  desola 
tion,  and  death,  whole  kingdoms — making  misery  and 
destruction  the  steps  by  which  they  mount  up  to  their 
seats  of  pride  !  O,  gentle  doctrine  of  Christ !  doctrine 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  265 

of  love  and  of  peace,  when  shall  it  be  that  I  and  all 
mankind  shall  know  thy  truth,  and  the  world  smile 
with  a  new  happiness  under  thy  life-giving  reign ! 

Fausta,  as  she  has  wandered  with  us  through  this 
wilderness  of  woe,  has  uttered  scarce  a  word.  This 
appalling  and  afflicting  sight  of  her  beloved  Palmyra — 
her  pride  and  hope — in  whose  glory  her  very  life  was 
wrapt  up — so  soon  become  a  blackened  heap  of  ruins 
— its  power  departed — its  busy  multitudes  dead,  and 
their  dwellings  empty  or  consumed — has  deprived  her 
of  all  but  tears.  She  has  only  wept.  The  sensibility 
which  she  feared  was  dead  she  finds  endued  with  life 
enough — with  too  much  for  either  her  peace  or  safety. 

As  soon  as  it  became  known  in  the  neighboring 
districts  that  the  army  of  Aurelian  was  withdrawn,  and 
that  the  troops  left  in  the  camp  and  upon  the  walls 
were  no  longer  commissioned  to  destroy,  they  who  had 
succeeded  in  effecting  their  escape,  or  who  had  early 
retreated  from  the  scene  of  danger,  began  to  venture 
back.  These  were  accompanied  by  great  numbers  of 
the  country  people,  who  now  poured  in  either  to 
witness  with  their  own  eyes  the  great  horror  of  the 
times,  or  to  seek  for  the  bodies  of  children  or  friends, 
who,  dwelling  in  the  city  for  purposes  of  trade  or  labor 
or  as  soldiers,  had  fallen  in  the  common  ruin.  For 
many  days  might  the  streets,  and  walls,  arid  ruins  be 
seen  covered  with  crowds  of  men  and  women,  who 
weeping  sought  among  the  piles  of  the  yet  unburied 
and  decaying  dead,  dear  relatives,  or  friends,  or  lovers, 
for  whom  they  hoped  to  perform  the  last  offices  of 
unfailing  affection ;  a  hope  that  was,  perhaps,  in  scarce 
a  single  instance  fulfilled.  And  how  could  any  but 
VOL.  ii.  23 


266  2  E  N  0  B  1  A  . 

those  in  whom  love  had  swallowed  up  reason  once 
imagine  that  where  the  dead  were  heaped  fathoms  deep^ 
mangled  by  every  shocking  mode  of  death,  and  now 
defaced  yet  more  by  the  processes  of  corruption,  they 
could  identify  the  forms  which  they  last  saw  beautiful 
in  all  the  bloom  of  health  ?  But  love  is  love  ;  it  feels 
and  cannot  reason. 

Cerronius  Bassus,  the  lieutenant  of  Aurelian,,  has 
with  a  humane  violence  laid  hold  upon  this  curious  and 
gazing  multitude,  and  changed  them  all  into  buriers  of 
the  dead  they  came  to  seek  and  bewail.  To  save  the 
country,  himself  and  his  soldiers  from  pestilence,  he 
hastens  the  necessary  work  of  interment.  The  plains 
are  trenched,  and  into  them  the  bodies  of  the  citizens 
are  indiscriminately  thrown.  There  now  lie  in  narrow 
space  the  multitudes  of  Palmyra. 

The  mangled  bodies  of  Antiochus,  Herennianus  and 
Timolaus  have  been  found  among  the  slain. 

We  go  no  longer  to  the  city,  but  remain  at  our 
solitary  tower — now  however  populous  as  the  city 
itself.  We  converse  of  the  past  and  the  future ;  but 
most  of  my  speedy  departure  for  Rome. 

It  is  the  purpose  of  Gracchus  to  continue  for  a 
season  yet  in  the  quiet  retreat  where  he  now  is.  He 
then  will  return  to  the  capital,  and  become  one  of  those 
to  lay  again  the  foundations  of  another  prosperity. 

'Nature,'  he  says,  'has  given  to  our  city  a  position 
and  resources  which,  it  seems  to  me,  no  power  of  man 
can  deprive  her  of,  nor  prevent  their  always  creating 
and  sustaining  upon  this  same  spot  a  large  population. 
Circumstances  like  the  present  may  oppress  and  over- 


2  E  tf  0  B  I  A  .  267 

whelm  for  a  time,  but  time  will  again  revive  and 
rebuild,  and  embellish.  I  will  not  for  one  sit  down  in 
inactivity  or  useless  grief,  but  if  Aurelian  does  not 
hinder,  shall  apply  the  remainder  of  my  days  to  the 
restoration  of  Palmyra.  In  Calpurnius  and  Fausta  I 
shall  look  to  find  my  lieutenants,  prompt  to  execute  the 
commissions  intrusted  to  them  by  their  commander.' 

*  We  shall  fall  behind,'  said  Calpurnius,  '  I  warrant 
you,  in  no  quality  of  affection  or  zeal  in  the  great  task.' 

'Fausta,'  continued  Gracchus,  'has  as  yet  no  heart 
but  for  the  dead  and  the  lost.  But,  Lucius,  when  you 
shall  have  been  not  long  in  Rome,  you  will  hear  that 
she  lives  then  but  among  the  living,  and  runs  before 
me  and  Calpurnius  in  every  labor  that  promises  advan 
tage  to  Palmyra.' 

'  It  may  be  so,'  replied  Fausta,  'but  I  have  no  faith 
that  it  will.  We  have  witnessed  the  death  of  our 
country ;  we  have  attended  the  funeral  obsequies.  I 
have  no  belief  in  any  rising  again  from  the  dead.' 

'  Give  not  way,  my  child,'  said  Gracchus,  '  to  grief 
and  despair.  These  are  among  the  worst  enemies  of 
man.  They  are  the  true  doubters  and  deniers  of  the 
gods  and  their  providence,  who  want  a  spirit  of  trust 
and  hope.  Hope  and  confidence  are  the  best  religion, 
and  the  truest  worship.  I  who  do  not  believe  in  the 
existence  of  the  gods  am  therefore  to  be  commended  for 
my  religion  more  than  many  of  the  staunchest  defend 
ers  of  Pagan,  Christian,  or  Jewish  superstitions,  who 
too  often,  it  seems  to  me,  feel  and  act  as  if  the  world 
were  abandoned  of  all  divine  care,  and  its  affairs  and 
events  the  sport  of  a  blind  chance.  What  is  best  for 
man  and  the  condition  of  the  world,  must  be  most 


268  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

agreeable  to  the  gods — to  the  creator  and  possessor  of 
the  world — be  they  one  or  many.  Can  we  doubt 
which  is  best  for  the  remaining  inhabitants  of  Palmyra, 
and  the  provinces  around  which  are  dependent  upon 
her  trade — to  leave  her  in  her  ruin  finally  and  utterly 
to  perish,  or  apply  every  energy  to  her  restoration  ?  Is 
it  better  that  the  sands  of  the  desert  should  within  a 
few  years  heap  themselves  over  these  remaining  walls 
and  dwellings,  or  that  we  who  survive  should  cleanse, 
and  repair,  and  rebuild,  in  the  confident  hope,  before 
we  in  our  turn  are  called  to  disappear,  to  behold  our 
beloved  city  again  thronged  with  its  thousands  of 
busy  and  laborious  inhabitants?  Carthage  is  again 
populous  as  in  the  days  of  Hamilcar.  You,  Fausta, 
may  live  to  see  Palmyra  what  it  was  in  the  days  of 
Zenobia.' 

'The  gods  grant  it  may  be  so!'  exclaimed  Fausta; 
and  a  bright  smile  at  the  vision  her  father  had  raised 
up  before  her  illuminated  her  features.  She  looked 
for  a  moment  as  if  the  reality  had  been  suddenly  re 
vealed  to  her,  and  had  stood  forth  in  all  its  glory. 

'  I  do  not  despair,'  continued  Gracchus,  <  of  the  Ro 
mans  themselves  doing  something  toward  the  restora 
tion  of  that  which  they  have  wantonly  and  foolishly 
destroyed.' 

'  But  they  cannot  give  life  to  the  dead,  and  therefore 
it  is  but  little  that  they  can  do  at  best,'  said  Fausta. 
They  may  indeed  rebuild  the  temple  of  the  Sun,  but 
they  cannot  give  us  back  the  godlike  form  of  Longinus, 
and  kindle  within  it  that  intellect  that  shed  light  over 
the  world ;  they  may  raise  again  the  walls  of  the  citi 
zen's  humble  dwelling,  but  they  cannot  re-animate  the 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  269 

bodies  of  the  slaughtered  multitudes,  and  call  them  out 
from  their  trenches  to  people  again  the  silent  streets.' 

'  They  cannot  indeed,'  rejoined  Gracchus ;  « they 
cannot  do  every  thing — they  may  not  do  any  thing. 
But  t  think  they  will,  and  that  the  Emperor  himself, 
when  reason  returns,  will  himself  set  the  example. 
And  from  you,  Lucius,  when  once  more  in  Rome,  shall 
I  look  for  substantial  aid  in  disposing  favorably  the 
mind  both  of  Aurelian  and  the  Senate.' 

'  I  can  never  be  more  happily  employed,'  I  replied, 
1  than  in  serving  either  you  or  Palmyra.  You  will 
have  a  powerful  advocate  also  in  Zenobia.' 

'  Yes,'  said  Gracchus,  '  if  her  life  be  spared,  which 
must  for  some  time  be  still  quite  uncertain.  After 
gracing  the  triumph  of  Aurelian,  she,  like  Longinus, 
may  be  offered  as  a  new  largess  to  the  still  hungering 
legions.' 

'Nay,  there  I  think,  Gracchus,  you  do  Aurelian 
hardly  justice.  Although  he  has  bound  himself  by  no 
oath,  yet  virtually  is  he  sworn  to  spare  Zenobia — and 
his  least  word  is  true  as  his  sword.' 

Thus  have  we  passed  the  last  days  and  hours  of  my 
residence  here.  I  should  in  vain  attempt,  my  Curtius, 
to  tell  you  how  strongly  I  am  bound  to  this  place — to 
this  kingdom  and  city,  and  above  all  to  those  who  sur 
vive  this  destruction.  No  Palmyrene  can  lament  with 
more  sincerity  than  I  the  whirlwind  of  desolation  that 
has  passed  over  them,  obliterating  almost  their  place 
and  name — nor  from  any  one  do  there  ascend  more 
fervent  prayers  that  prosperity  may  yet  return,  and 
these  wide-spread  ruins  again  rise  and  glow  in  their 
ancient  beauty.  Rome  has  by  former  acts  of  unparal- 
VOL.  ii.  23* 


270  Z  E  N  O  B  I  A  . 

leled  barbarism  covered  her  name  with  reproach,  but 
by  none  has  she  so  drenched  it  in  guilt  as  by  this 
wanton  annihilation — for  so  do  I  regard  it— of  one  of 
the  fairest  cities  and  kingdoms  of  the  oarth.  The  day 
of  Aurelian's  triumph  may  be  a  day  of  triumph  to 
him,  but  to  Rome  it  will  be  a  day  of  never  forgotten 
infamy. 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  271 


LETTER    XVIII. 


FROM     P1SO     TO     FAUSTA. 

I  TRUST  that  you  have  safely  received  the  letter 
which,  as  we  entered  the  Tiber,  I  was  fortunate  enough 
to  place  on  board  a  vessel  bound  directly  to  Berytus. 
In  that  I  have  told  you  of  my  journey  and  voyage,  and 
have  said  many  other  things  of  more  consequence  still, 
both  to  you,  Gracchus,  and  myself. 

I  now  write  to  you  from  my  own  dwelling  upon  the 
Coslian,  where  I  have  been  these  many  days  that  have 
intervened  since  the  date  of  my  former  letter.  If  you 
have  waited  impatiently  to  hear  from  me  again,  I  hope 
that  I  shall  now  atone  for  what  may  seem  a  too  long 
delay,  by  telling  you  of  those  concerning  whom  you 
wish  chiefly  to  hear  and  know — Zenobia  and.  Julia. 

But  first  let  me  say  that  I  have  found  Portia  in 
health,  and  as  happy  as  she  could  be  after  her  bitter 
disappointment  in  Calpurnius.  This  has  proved  a 
misfortune,  less  only  than  the  loss  of  our  father  himself. 
That  a  Piso  should  live,  and  be  other  than  a  Roman ; 
that  he  should  live  and  bear  arms  against  his  country 
— this  has  been  to  her  one  of  those  inexplicable  mys 
teries  in  the  providence  of  the  gods  that  has  tasked  her 
piety  to  the  utmost.  In  vain  has  she  scrutinized  her 
life  to  discover  what  fault  has  drawn  down  upon  her 
and  her  house  this  heavy  retribution.  Yet  her  grief 


272  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

is  lightened  by  what  I  have  told  her  of  the  conduct  of 
Calpurnius  at  Antioch  and  Emesa.  At  such  times, 
when  I  have  related  the  events  of  those  great  days, 
and  the  part  which  my  brother  took,  the  pride  of  the 
Roman  has  yielded  to  that  of  the  mother,  and  she  has 
not  been  able  to  conceal  her  satisfaction.  *  Ah,'  she 
would  say,  '  my  brave  boy  !  That  was  like  him  !  I 
warrant  Zabdas  himself  was  not  greater !  What  might 
he  not  be,  were  he  but  in  Rome  ! ' 

Portia  is  never  weary  with  inquiring  into  every  thing 
relating  to  yourself  and  Gracchus.  My  letters,  many 
and  minute  as  they  have  been,  so  far  from  satisfying 
her,  serve  only  as  themes  for  new  and  endless  conver 
sations,  in  which,  as  well  as  I  am  able,  I  set  before  her 
my  whole  life  while  in  Palmyra,  and  every  event,  from 
the  conversation  at  the  table  or  in  the  porticos,  to  the 
fall  of  the  city  and  the  death  of  Longinus.  So  great 
is  her  desire  to  know  all  concerning  the  '  hero  Fausta,' 
and  so  unsatisfying  is  the  all  that  I  can  say,  that  I 
shall  not  wonder  if,  after  the  ceremony  of  the  triumph, 
she  should  herself  propose  a  journey  to  Palmyra,  to 
see  you  once  more  with  her  own  eyes,  and  once  more 
fold  you  in  her  arms.  You  will  rejoice  to  be  told  that 
she  bewails,  even  with  tears,  the  ruin  of  the  city,  and 
the  cruel  massacre  of  its  inhabitants.  She  condemns 
the  Emperor  in  language  as  strong  as  you  or  I  should 
use.  The  slaughter  of  Sandarion  and  his  troops  she 
will  by  no  means  allow  to  .be  a  sufficient  justification 
of  the  act.  And  of  her  opinion  are  all  the  chief  citi 
zens  of  Rome. 

I  have  found  Curtius  and  Lucilia  also  in  health. 
They  are  at  their  villa  upon  the  Tiber.  The  first  to 


ZENOBIA.  273 

greet  me  there  were  Laco  and  Coelia.  Their  gratitude 
was  affecting  and  oppressive.  Indeed  there  is  no  duty 
so  hard  as  to  receive  with  grace  the  thanks  of  those 
whom  you  have  obliged.  Curtius  is  for  once  satisfied 
that  I  have  performed  with  fidelity  the  part  of  a  cor 
respondent.  He  even  wonders  at  my  diligence.  The 
advantage  is,  I  believe  for  the  first  time^  fairly  on  my 
side ;  though  you  can  yourself  bear  testimony,  having 
heard  all  his  epistles,  how  many  he  wrote,  and  with 
what  vividness  and  exactness  he  made  Rome  to  pass  be 
fore  us.  I  think  he  will  not  be  prevented  from  writing 
to  you  by  anything  I  can  say.  He  drops  in  every  day, 
Lucilia  sometimes  with  him,  and  never  leaves  us  till 
he  has  exhausted  his  prepared  questions  concerning 
you,  and  the  great  events  which  have  taken  place — 
there  remaining  innumerable  points  to  a  man  of  his 
exact  turn  of  mind,  about  which  he  must  insist  upon 
fuller  and  more  careful  information.  I  think  he  will 
draw  up  a  history  of  the  war.  I  hope  he  will — no  one 
could  do  it  better. 

Aurelian,  you  will  have  heard,  upon  leaving  Palmy 
ra,  instead  of  continuing  on  the  route  upon  which  he 
set  out  toward  Emesa  and  Antioch,  turned  aside  to 
Egypt,  in  order  to  put  down  by  one  of  his  sudden 
movements  the  Egyptian  merchant  Firmus,  who,  with 
a  genius  for  war  greater  than  for  traffic,  had  placed 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  people,  and  proclaimed  their 
independence  of  Rome.  As  the  friend  and  ally  of 
Zenobia — although  he  could  render  her  during  the 
siege  no  assistance — I  must  pity  his  misfortunes  and 
his  end.  News  has  just  reached  us  that  his  armies 
have  been  defeated,  he  himself  taken  and  put  to  death, 


274  ZENOBIA. 

and  his  new-made  kingdom  reduced  again  to  the  con 
dition  of  a  Roman  province.  We  now  every  hour  look 
to  hear  of  the  arrival  of  the  Emperor  and  his  armies. 

Although  there  has  been  observed  some  secrecy 
concerning  the  progress  and  places  of  residence  of 
Zenobia,  yet  we  learn  with  a  good  degree  of  certainty 
that  she  is  now  at  Brundusium,  awaiting  the  further 
orders  of  Aurelian,  having  gone  over-land  from  Byzan 
tium  to  Apollonia,  and  there  crossing  the  Adriatic.  I 
have  not  been  much  disturbed  by  the  reports  which 
have  prevailed,  because  I  thought  I  knew  too  much  of 
the  Queen  to  think  them  well  grounded.  Yet  I  confess 
I  have  suffered  somewhat  when,  upon  resorting  to  the 
capitol  or  the  baths,  I  have  found  the  principal  topic  to 
be  the  death  of  Zenobia — according  to  some,  of  grief, 
on  her  way  from  Antioch  to  Byzantium — or,  as  others 
had  it,  of  hunger,  she  having  resolutely  refused  all 
nourishment.  I  have  given  no  credit  to  the  rumor,  yet 
as  all  stories  of  this  kind  are  a  mixture  of  truth  and 
error,  so  in  this  case  I  can  conceive  easily  that  it  has 
some  foundation  in  reality,  and  I  am  led  to  believe  from 
it  that  the  sufferings  of  the  Queen  have  been  great. 
How  indeed  could  they  be  otherwise  !  A  feebler  spirit 
than  Zenobia's,  and  a  feebler  frame  would  necessarily 
have  been  destroyed.  With  what  impatience  do  I 
await  the  hour  that  shall  see  her  in  Rome  !  I  am  hap 
pily  already  relieved  of  all  anxiety  as  to  her  treatment 
by  Aurelian — no  fear  need  be  entertained  for  her  safety. 
Desirous  as  far  as  may  be  to  atone  for  the  rash  severity 
of  his  orders  in  Syria,  he  will  distinguish  with  every 
possible  mark  of  honor  the  Queen,  her  family,  and 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  275 

such  other  of  the  inhabitants  of  Palmyra  as  have  been 
reserved  to  grace  his  triumph. 

For  this  august  ceremony  the  preparations  are  already 
making.  It  is  the  sole  topic  of  conversation,  and  the 
single  object  toward  which  seem  to  be  bent  the  whole 
genius  and  industry  of  the  capital.  It  is  intended  to 
surpass  in  magnificence  all  that  has  been  done  by  for 
mer  Emperors  or  Generals.  The  materials  for  it  are 
collecting  from  every  part  of  the  empire,  and  the  remot 
est  regions  of  Asia  and  Africa.  Every  day  .there 
arrive  cargoes  either  of  wild  beasts  or  of  prisoners, 
destined  to  the  amphitheatre  ;  illustrious  captives  also 
from  Asia,  Germany  and  Gaul,  among  whom  are  Tetri- 
cus  and  his  son.  The  Tiber  is  crowded  with  vessels 
bringing  in  the  treasures  drawn  from  Palmyra — her 
silver  and  gold — her  statuary  and  works  of  art — and 
every  object  of  curiosity  and  taste  that  was  susceptible 
of  transportation  across  the  desert  and  the  ocean. 

It  is  now  certain  that  the  Queen  has  advanced  as  far 
as  Tusculum,  where  with  Julia,  Livia,  Faustula  and 
Vabalathus,  they  will  remain — at  a  villa  of  Aurelian's 
it  is  said — till  the  day  of  the  triumph.  Separation 
seems  the  more  painful  as  they  approach  nearer. 
Although  knowing  that  they  would  be  scrupulously 
prohibited  from  all  intercourse  with  any  beyond  the 
precincts  of  the  villa  itself,  I  have  not  been  restrained 
from  going  again  and  again  to  Tusculum,  and  passing 
through  it  and  around  it  in  the  hope  to  obtain  were  it 
but  a  distant  glimpse  of  persons  to  whom  I  am  bound 
more  closely  than  to  any  others  on  earth.  But  it  has 
been  all  in  vain.  I  shall  not  see  them  till  I  behold 


276  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

them  a  part  of  the  triumphal  procession  of  their  con 
queror. 

Aurelian  has  arrived — the  long  expected  day  has 
come — and  is  gone.  His  triumph  has  been  celebrated, 
and  with  a  magnificence  and  a  pomp  greater  than  the 
traditionary  glories  of  those  of  Pompey,  Trajan,  Titus, 
or  even  the  secular  games  of  Philip. 

I  have  seen  Zenobia ! 

The  sun  of  Italy  never  poured  a  flood  of  more  golden 
light  upon  the  great  capital  and  its  surrounding  plains 
than  on  the  day  of  Aurelian's  triumph.  The  airs  of 
Palmyra  were  never  more  soft.  The  whole  city  was 
early  abroad,  and,  added  to  our  own  overgrown  popula 
tion,  there  were  the  inhabitants  of  all  the  neighboring 
towns  and  cities,  and  strangers  from  all  parts  of  the 
empire,  so  that  it  was  with  difficulty  and  labor  only, 
and  no  little  danger  too,  that  the  spectacle  could  be  seen. 
I  obtained  a  position  opposite  the  capitol,  from  which  I 
could  observe  the  whole  of  this  proud  display  of  the 
power  and  greatness  of  Rome. 

A  long  train  of  elephants  opened  the  show,  their 
huge  sides  and  limbs  hung  with  cloth  of  gold  and 
scarlet,  some  having  upon  their  backs  military  towers 
or  other  fanciful  structures,  which  were  filled  with  the 
natives  of  Asia  or  Africa,  all  arrayed  in  the  richest 
costumes  of  their  countries.  These  were  followed  by 
wild  animals,  and  those  remarkable  for  their  beauty, 
from  every  part  of  the  world,  either  led,  as  in  the  case 
of  lions,  tigers,  leopards,  by  those  who  from  long  man 
agement  of  them  possessed  the  same  power  over  them 
as  the  groom  over  his  horse,  or  else  drawn  along  upon 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  277 

low  platforms,  upon  which  they  were  made  to  perform 
a  thousand  antic  tricks  for  the  amusement  of  the  gaping 
and  wondering  crowds.  Then  came  not  many  fewer 
than  two  thousand  gladiators  in  pairs,  all  arranged  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  display  to  the  greatest  advantage 
their  well-knit  joints,  and  projecting  and  swollen  mus 
cles.  Of  these  a  great  number  have  already  perished 
on  the  arena  of  the  Flavian,  and  in  the  sea  fights  in 
Domitian's  theatre.  Next,  upon,  gilded  wagons,  and  so 
arranged  as  to  produce  the  most  dazzling  effect,  came 
the  spoils  of  the  wars  of  Aurelian — treasures  of  art, 
rich  cloths  and  embroideries,  utensils  of  gold  and  silver, 
pictures,  statues,  and  works  in  brass,  from  the  cities  of 
Gaul,  from  Asia  and  from  Egypt.  Conspicuous  here 
over  all  were  the  rich  and  gorgeous  contents  of  the 
palace  of  Zenobia.  The  huge  wains  groaned  under 
the  weight  of  vessels  of  gold  and  silver,  of  ivory,  and 
of  the  most  precious  woods  of  India.  The  jewelled 
wine  cups,  vases,  and  golden  sculpture  of  Demetrius 
attracted  the  gaze  and  excited  the  admiration  of  every 
beholder.  Immediately  after  these  came  a  crowd  of 
youths  richly  habited  in  the  costumes  of  a  thousand 
different  tribes,  bearing  in  their  hands,  upon  cushions 
of  silk,  crowns  of  gold  and  precious  stones,  the  offerings 
of  the  cities  and  kingdoms  of  all  the  world,  as  it  were, 
to  the  power  and  fame  of  Aurelian.  Following  these 
came  the  ambassadors  of  all  nations,  sumptuously 
arrayed  in  the  habits  of  their  respective  countries. 
Then  an  innumerable  train  of  captives,  showing  plainly 
in  their  downcast  eyes,  in  their  fixed  and  melancholy 
gaze,  that  hope  had  taken  its  departure  from  their 
breasts.  Among  these  were  many  women  from  the 
VOL.  n.  24 


278  ZENOBIA. 

shores  of  the  Danube,  taken  in  arms  fighting  for  their 
country,  of  enormous  stature,  and  clothed  in  the  war 
like  costume  of  their  tribes. 

But  why  do  I  detain  you  with  these  things,  when  it 
is  of  one  only  that  you  wish  to  hear.  I  cannot  tell 
you  with  what  impatience  I  waited  for  that  part  of  the 
procession  to  approach  where  were  Zenobia  and  Julia. 
I  thought  its  line  would  stretch  on  forever.  And  it 
was  the  ninth  hour  before  the  alternate  shouts  and 
deep  silence  of  the  multitudes  announced  that  the  con 
queror  was  drawing  near  the  capitol.  As  the  first 
shout  arose,  I  turned  toward  the  quarter  whence  it 
came,  and  beheld,  not  Aurelian  as  I  expected,  but  the 
Gallic  Emperor  Tetricus — yet  slave  of  his  army  and 
of  Victoria — accompanied  by  the  prince  his  son,  and 
followed  by  other  illustrious  captives  from  Gaul.  All 
eyes  were  turned  with  pity  upon  him,  and  with  indig 
nation  too  that  Aurelian  should  thus  treat  a  Roman, 
and  once — a  Senator.  But  sympathy  for  him  was 
instantly  lost  in  a  stronger  feeling  of  the  same  kind 
for  Zenobia,  who  came  immediately  after.  You  can 
imagine,  Fausta,  better  than  I  can  describe  them,  my 
sensations,  when  I  saw  our  beloved  friend — her  whom 
I  had  seen  treated  never  otherwise  than  as  a  sovereign 
Queen,  and  with  all  the  imposing  pomp  of  the  Persian 
ceremonial — now  on  foot,  and  exposed  to  the  rude 
gaze  of  the  Roman  populace — toiling  beneath  the  rays 
of  a  hot  sun,  and  the  weight  of  jewels,  such  as  both  for 
richness  and  beauty,  were  never  before  seen  in  Rome 
— and  of  chains  of  gold,  which,  first  passing  around 
her  neck  and  arms,  were  then  borne  up  by  attendant 
slaves.  I  could  have  wept  to  see  her  so — yes,  and 


2  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  279 

did.  My  impulse  was  to  break  through  the  crowd  and 
support  her  almost  fainting  form — but  I  well  knew  that 
my  life  would  answer  for  the  rashness  on  the  spot.  I 
could  only  therefore,  like  the  rest,  wonder  and  gaze. 
And  never  did  she  seem  to  me,  not  even  in  the  midst 
of  her  own  court,  to  blaze  forth  with  such  transcendent 
beauty — yet  touched  with  grief.  Her  look  was  not 
that  of  dejection,  of  one  who  was  broken  and  crushed 
by  misfortune — there  was  no  blush  of  shame.  It  was 
rather  one  of  profound  heartbreaking  melancholy. 
Her  full  eyes  looked  as  if  privacy  only  was  wanted  for 
them  to  overflow  with  floods  of  tears.  But  they  fell 
not.  Her  gaze  was  fixed  on  vacancy,  or  else  cast 
toward  the  ground.  She  seemed  like  one  unobservant 
of  all  around  her,  and  buried  in  thoughts  to  which  all 
else  were  strangers,  and  had  nothing  in  common  with. 
They  were  in  Palmyra,  and  with  her  slaughtered  mul 
titudes.  Yet  though  she  wept  not,  others  did ;  and 
one  could  see  all  along,  wherever  she  moved,  the  Ko- 
man  hardness  yielding  to  pity,  and  melting  down 
before  the  all-subduing  presence  of  this  wonderful 
woman.  The  most  touching  phrases  of  compassion 
fell  constantly  upon  my  ear.  And  ever  and  anon  as 
in  the  road  there  would  happen  some  rough  or  damp 
place,  the  kind  souls  would  throw  down  upon  it  what 
ever  of  their  garments  they  could  quickest  divest 
themselves  of,  that  those  feet,  little  used  to  such  en 
counters,  might  receive  no  harm.  And  as  when  other 
parts  of  the  procession  were  passing  by,  shouts  of  tri 
umph  and  vulgar  joy  frequently  arose  from  the  motley 
crowds,  yet  when  Zenobia  appeared,  a  death-like  silence 
prevailed,  or  it  was  interrupted  only  by  exclamations 


280  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

of  admiration  or  pity,  or  of  indignation  at  Aurelian  for 
so  using  her.  But  this  happened  not  long.  For  when 
the  Emperor's  pride  had  been  sufficiently  gratified,  and 
just  there  where  he  came  over  against  the  steps  of  the 
capitol,  he  himself,  crowned  as  he  was  with  the  diadem 
of  universal  empire,  descended  from  his  chariot,  and, 
unlocking  the  chains  of  gold  that  bound  the  limbs  of 
the  Queen,  led  and  placed  her  in  her  own  chariot — 
that  chariot  in  which  she  had  fondly  hoped  herself  to 
enter  Rome  in  triumph — between  Julia  and  Livia. 
Upon  this  the  air  was  rent  with  the  grateful  acclama 
tions  of  the  countless  multitudes.  The  Queen's  coun 
tenance  brightened  for  a  moment  as  if  with  the  expres 
sive  sentiment,  *  The  gods  bless  you  ! '  and  was  then 
buried  in  the  folds  of  her  robe.  And  when  after  the 
lapse  of  many  minutes  it  was  again  raised  and  turned 
toward  the  people,  every  one  might  see  that  tears  burn 
ing  hot  had  coursed  her  cheeks,  and  relieved  a  heart 
which  else  might  well  have  burst  with  its  restrained 
emotion.  Soon  as  the  chariot  which  held  her  had 
disappeared  upon  the  other  side  of  the  capitol,  I  extri 
cated  myself  from  the  crowd  and  returned  home.  It 
was  not  till  the  shades  of  evening  had  fallen,  that  the 
last  of  the  procession  had  passed  the  front  of  the  capi 
tol,  and  the  Emperor  reposed  within  the  walls  of  his 
palace.  The  evening  was  devoted  to  the  shows  of  the 
theatres. 

Seven  days  succeeding  this  first  day  of  the  triumph 
have  been  devoted  to  games  and  shows.  I  attended 
them  not,  but  escaping  from  the  tumult  and  confusion 
of  the  city,  passed  them  in  a  very  different  manner — 
you  will  at  once  conjecture  where  and  with  whom.  It 


2  £  N  0  B  I  A  .  281 

was  indeed  as  you  suppose  in  the  society  of  Zenobia, 
Julia,  and  Livia. 

What  the  immediate  destination  of  the  Queen  was 
to  be  I  knew  not,  nor  did  any  seem  to  know  even  so 
late  as  the  day  of  the  triumph.  It  was  only  known 
that  her  treatment  was  to  be  lenient.  But  on  the  day 
after,  it  became  public  in  the  city,  that  the  Emperor 
had  bestowed  upon  her  his  magnificent  villa,  not  far 
from  Hadrian's  at  Tibur,  and  at  the  close  of  the  first 
day  of  the  triumph  a  chariot  of  Aurelian  in  waiting 
had  conveyed  her  there.  This  was  to  me  transporting 
news,  as  it  will  be  to  you. 

On  the  evening  of  that  day  I  was  at  Tibur.  Had  I 
been  a  son  or  a  brother,  the  Queen  could  not  have 
received  me  with  more  emotion.  But  I  leave  it  to  you 
to  imagine  the  first  moments  of  our  interview.  When 
our  greetings  were  over,  the  first  thought,  at  least  the 
first  question,  of  Zenobia  was,  concerning  you  and 
Gracchus.  All  her  inquiries,  as  well  as  those  of  Julia, 
I  was  happily  able  to  answer  in  the  most  exact  manner, 
out  of  the  fulness  of  your  letter.  When  I  had  finished 
this  agreeable  duty,  the  Queen  said, 

*  Our  happiness  were  complete,  as  now  it  can  be, 
could  Fausta  and  Gracchus  be  but  added  to  our  num 
bers.  I  shall  hope,  in  the  lapse  of  days  or  months,  to 
entice  them  away  for  a  season  from  their  melancholy 
home.  And  yet  what  better  can  I  offer  them  here  ? 
There  they  behold  their  city  in  ruins  ;  here  their  Queen. 
There  they  already  detect  some  tokens  of  reviving 
life  ;  here  they  would  have  before  them  but  the  picture 
of  decay  and  approaching  death.  But  these  things  I 
ought  not  to  say.  Piso,  you  will  be  glad  to  learn  the 
VOL.  n.  24* 


282  Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  . 

purposes  of  Aurelian  concerning  Palmyra.  He  has 
already  set  apart  large  sums  for  the  restoration  of  its 
walls  and  temples ;  and  what  is  more  and  better,  he 
has  made  Gracchus  governor  of  the  city  and  province, 
with  liberal  promises  of  treasure  to  carry  into  effect 
whatever  designs  he  may  conceive  as  most  likely  to 
people  again  the  silent  streets,  and  fill  them  with  the 
merchants  of  the  East  and  the  West.' 

*  AureHan,  I  am  persuaded,'  I  replied, '  will  feel  upon 
him  the  weight  of  the  strongest  motives  to  do  all  that 
he  can  to  repair  the  injuries  he  has  inflicted.  Then 
too,  in  addition  to  this,  his  nature  is  generous.' 

'  It  is  so,'  said  Julia.  *  How  happy  if  he  had  been 
j  less  subject  to  his  passions  !  The  proofs  of  a  generous 
nature  you  see  here,  Piso,  every  where  around  us. 
This  vast  and  magnificent  palace,  with  its  extensive 
grounds,  has  he  freely  bestowed  upon  us  ;  and  here,  as 
your  eye  has  already  informed  you,  has  he  caused  to 
be  brought  and  arranged  every  article  of  use  or  luxury 
found  in  the  palace  of  Palmyra,  and  capable  of  trans 
portation.' 

'  I  could  hardly  believe,'  I  said,  '  as  I  approached  the 
great  entrance,  and  beheld  objects  so  familiar — still 
more,  when  I  came  within  the  walls  and  saw  around 
me  all  that  I  had  seen  in  Palmyra,  that  I  was  indeed 
in  the  vicinity  of  Rome,  and  had  not  been  by  some 
strange  power  transported  suddenly  to  Asia.  In  the 
rash  violence  of  Aurelian  in  Syria,  and  in  this  repara 
tion,  both  here  and  there,  of  the  evil  he  has  committed 
to  the  farthest  extent  possible,  you  witness  a  genuine 
revelation  of  his  character.  Would  that  principle  rather 
than  passion  were  the  governing  power  of  bis  life ! ' 


Z  E  N  0  B  I  A  .  283 

Although  I  have  passed  many  days  at  Tibur,  yet 
have  I  seen  but  little  of  Zenobia.  She  is  silent  and 
solitary.  Her  thoughts  are  evidently  never  with  the 
present,  but  far  back  among  the  scenes  of  her  former 
life.  To  converse  is  an  effort.  The  lines  of  grief  have 
fixed  themselves  upon  her  countenance ;  her  very  form 
and  manner  are  expressive  of  a  soul  bowed  and  subdued 
by  misfortune.  Her  pride  seems  no  longer,  as  on  the 
day  of  the  triumph,  to  bear  her  up.  It  is  Zenobia  before 
me,  but — like  her  own  beautiful  capital — it  is  Zenobia 
in  ruins.  That  she  suffers  too  from  the  reproaches  of 
a  mind  now  conscious  of  its  errors  I  cannot  doubt.  She 
blames  Aurelian,  but  I  am  persuaded  she  blames  with 
no  less  severity  herself.  It  is,  I  doubt  not,  the  image 
of  her  desolated  country  rising  before  her,  that  causes 
her  so  often  in  the  midst  of  discourse  with  us,  or  when 
she  has  been  sitting  long  silent,  suddenly  to  start  and 
clasp  her  hands,  and  withdraw  weeping  to  her  apart 
ments,  or  the  seclusion  of  the  garden. 

*  It  will  be  long,  very  long,'  Julia  has  said  to  me, 
'  before  Zenobia  will  recover  from  this  grief — if  indeed 
she  ever  do.  Would  that  the  principles  of  that  faith, 
which  we  have  learned  to  believe  and  prize,  were  also 
hers !  Life  would  then  still  place  before  her  a  great 
object,  which  now  she  wants.  The  past  absorbs  her 
wholly — the  future  is  nothing.  She  dwells  upon 
glories  that  are  departed  forever,  and  is  able  to  antici 
pate  no  other,  or  greater,  in  this  world — nor  with 
certainty  in  any  beyond  it.' 

I  said,  '  But  doubtless  she  throws  herself  at  this  sea 
son  upon  her  Jewish  faith  and  philosophy.  She  has 


284  Z  £  N  0  B  1  A  . 

ever  spoken  of  it  with  respect  at  least,  if  not  with 
affection.' 

'I  do  not,'  Julia  replied,  '  think  that  her  faith  in 
Judaism  is  of  much  avail  to  her.  She  has  found 
pleasure  in  reading  the  sacred  books  of  the  Jews,  and 
has  often  expressed  warmly  her  admiration  of  the 
great  principles  of  moral  living  and  of  religious  belief 
found  in  them  ;  but  I  do  not  think  that  she  has  derived 
from  them  that  which  she  conceives  to  be  the  sum  of 
all  religion  and  philosophy,  a  firm  belief  and  hope  of 
immortality.  I  am  sure  she  has  not.  She  has  some 
times  spoken  as  if  such  a  belief  possessed  likelihood. 
but  never  as  if  she  entertained  it  in  the  way  the  Chris 
tian  does.' 


You  will  rejoice,  dear  Fausta,  to  learn  that  Zenobia 
no  longer  opposes  me  ;  but  waits  with  impatience  for 
the  day  when  I  shall  be  an  inmate  of  her  palace. 

What  think  you  is  the  news  to-day  in  Rome  ?  No 
other  and  no  less  than  this  —  which  you  may  well  sup 
pose  has  for  some  time  been  no  news  to  me  —  that 
Livia  is  to  be  Empress!  It  has  just  been  made  public 
by  authority  ;  and  I  despatch  my  letter  that  you  may 
be  immediately  informed  of  it.  It  has  brought  another 
expression  upon  the  countenance  of  Zenobia. 

Curtius  and  Lucilia  have  this  moment  come  in,  and 
full  of  these  tidings  interrupt  me  —  they  with  Portia 
wish  to  be  remembered  to  you  with  affection.  I  shall 
soon  write  again  —  telling  you  then  especially  of  my 
interviews  with  Aurelian,  and  of  Probus.  Farewell. 


NOTE. 

Prso;  it  will  be  observed,  makes  no  mention  of,  nor  allusion 
to,  the  story  recorded  by  the  historian  Zosimus,  of  the  Queen's 
public  accusation  of  Longinus  and  the  other  principal  persons 
of  Palmyra,  as  authors  of  the  rebellion,  in  order  to  save  her  own 
life.  It  is  well  known  that  Zenobia,  chiefly  on  the  authority  of 
this  historian,  has  been  charged  with  having  laid  upon  Longinus 
and  her  other  counsellors,  all  the  blame  of  the  revolt,  as  if  she 
had  been  driven  by  them  against  her  will  into  the  course  she 
pursued.  The  words  of  Zosimus  are  as  follows  : 

'Emisam  rediit  et  Zenobiam  cum  suis  complicibus  pro  tribu- 
nali  stitit.  Ilia  causas  exponens,  et  culpa  semet  eximens  multos 
alios  in  medium  protulit,  qui  earn  veluti  fgeminam  seduxissent ; 
quorum  in  numero  et  Longinus  erat. — Itidem  alii  quos  Zenobia 
detulerat  suppliciis  adficiebatur.' 

This  is  suspicious  upon  the  face  of  it.  As  if  Aurelian  needed 
a  formal  tribunal  and  the  testimony  of  Zenobia  to  inform  him 
who  the  great  men  of  Palmyra  were,  and  her  chief  advisers. 
Longinus,  at  least,  we  may  suppose,  was  as  well  known  as  Ze 
nobia.  But  if  there  was  a  formal  tribunal,  then  evidence  was 
heard — and  not  upon  one  side  only,  but  both.  If  therefore  the 
statements  of  Zenobia  were  false,  there  were  Longinus  and  the 
other  accused  persons,  with  their  witnesses,  to  make  it  appear 
so.  If  they  were  true — if  she  had  been  overruled — led — or  driven 
—by  her  advisers,  then  it  was  not  unreasonable  that  punishment 
—if  some  must  suffer — should  fall  where  it  did. 

But  against  Zosimus  may  be  arrayed  the  words  of  Aurelian 


286  NOTE. 

himself,  in  a  letter  addressed  to  the  Roman  senate,  and  pre 
served  by  Pollio.     He  says, 

'  Nee  ego  illi  (Zenobise)  vitam  eonservassem  nisi  earn  scissem 
multum  Rom  :  Reip.  profuisse,  quum  sibi  vel  liberis  suis  Orien- 
tis  servaret  imperium.' 

Aurelian  here  says  that  he  would  not  have  spared  her  life  but 
for  one  reason,  namely,  that  she  had  done  such  signal  service  to 
the  republic,  when  either  for  herself  or  for  her  children  she  had 
saved  the  empire  in  the  East.  Aurelian  spared  her  life,  if  he 
himself  is  to  be  believed,  because  of  services  rendered  to  Eome,  NOT 
because  by  the  accusation  of  others  she  had  cleared  herself  of 
the  charge  of  rebellion.  Her  life  was  never  in  any  danger,  if 
this  be  true  ;  and  unless  it  were,  she  of  course  had  no  motive  to 
criminate  Longinus  in  the  manner  related  by  Zosimus. 

Longinus  and  his  companions  suffered  therefore,  not  in  con 
sequence  of  any  special  accusation — it  was  not  needed  for  their 
condemnation — but  as  a  matter  of  course,  because  they  were 
leaders  and  directors  of  the  revolt.  It  was  the  usage  of  war. 

"Why  are  Pollio  (the  biographer  of  Zenobia)  and  Vopiscus 
(the  biographer  of  Aurelian)  and  Zonaras  all  silent  respecting 
so  remarkable  a  point  of  the  history  of  Zenobia  ?  Pollio  does  not 
hesitate  to  say  that  she  had  been  thought  by  some  to  have  been 
partner  in  the  crime  of  murdering  Odenatus  and  his  son  Herod 
— a  charge  which  never  found  credit  in  any  quarter.  Such  a 
biographer  surely  would  not  have  passed  over  in  silence  the  un 
utterable  baseness  of  Zenobia  in  the  accusation  of  Longinus,  if 
he  had  ever  heard  of  it  and  had  esteemed  it  to  have  come  to  him 
as  well  vouched  at  least  as  the  other  story.  Omission  under 
such  circumstances  is  good  evidence  that  it  came  to  him  not  so 
well  vouched — that  is,  not  vouched  at  all. 

Supposing  Zenobia  to  have  been  guilty  of  the  crime  laid  to  her 
charge,  could  Aurelian  have  treated  her  afterwards  in  the  way 
he  did?  He  not  only  took  her  to  Rome  and  gave  her  a  palace 
at  Tibur,  and  the  state  of  a  Queen,  but  according  to  some,*  mar 
ried  one  of  her  daughters.  Could  he  have  done  all  this  had  she 

*Filiam  (Zenobise)  tinam  uxorem  duxisse  Aurelianum ;   cseteras  nobilibus 
:a3,  lib.  xii.  p.  480. 


NOTE.  S87 

been  the  mean,  base  and  wicked  woman  Zosimus  makes  her  out 
to  be  ?  The  history  of  this  same  eastern  expedition  furnishes  a 
case  somewhat  in  point,  and  which  may  serve  to  show  in  what 
light  he  would  probably  have  regarded  Zenobia.  Tyana,  a  city 
of  Asia  Minor,  for  a  long  time  resisted  all  his  attempts  to  reduce 
it.  At  length  it  was  betrayed  into  his  hands  by  one  of  its  chief 
citizens,  Heraclammon.  How  did  Aurelian  receive  and  treat 
him  after  entering  the  city  ?  Let  Vopiscus  reply :  { Nam  et 
Heraclammon  proditorem  patrise  suee  sapiens  victor  occidit.' — 
*  Heraclammon  who  betrayed  his  country  the  conqueror  wisely 
slew.'  But  this  historian  has  preserved  a  letter  of  Aurelian,  in 
which  he  speaks  of  this  same  traitor : 

( Aurelianus  Aug:  Mallio  Chiloni.  Occidi  passus  sum  cujus 
quasi  beneficio  Tyan-am  recepi.  Ego  vero  proditorem  amare 
non  potui ;  et  libenter  tuli  quod  eum  milites  occiderunt :  neque 
enim  mihi  fidem  servare  potuisset  qui  patrise  non  pepercit,'  etc. 
He  permits  Heraclammon  to  be  slain  because  he  could  not  love  a 
traitor,  and  because  one  who  had  betrayed  his  country  could  not  be 
trusted—  while  Zenobia,  if  Zosimus  is  to  be  believed,  whose  act 
was  of  the  same  kind — only  infinitely  more  base — he  receives  and 
crowns  with  distinguished  honor,  and  marries  her  daughter  ! 

'  Zosime  pretend,'  says  Tillemont,  {que  ce  flit  Zenobie  mesme 
qui  se  dechargea  sur  eux  des  choses  dont  on  1'accusoit,  (ce  qui 
repondroit  bien  mal  a  cette  grandeur  d'ame  qu'on  luy  attribue.') 
—Hist,  des  Emp.  t.  II.  p.  212. 

The  evidence  of  Zosimus  is  not  of  so  high  a  character  as  just 
ly  to  weigh  against  a  strong  internal  improbability,  or  the  silence 
of  other  historians.  Gibbon  says  of  him,  '  In  good  policy  we 
must  use  the  service  of  Zosimus  without  esteeming  him  or  trust 
ing  him  ;'  and  repeatedly  designates  him  as  'credulous,' '  partial,' 
'disingenuous.'  By  Tillemont  he  is  called  a  'bad  authority.' 

Nothing  would  seem  to  be  plainer,  than  that  Aurelian  spared 
Zenobia  because  she  was  a  woman  ;  because  she  was  a  beautiful 
and  every  way  remarkable  woman ;  and  as  he  himself  says, 
because  she  had  protected  and  saved  the  empire  in  the  East ;  and 
that  he  sacrificed  Longinus  and  the  other  chief  men  of  Palmyra, 
because  such  was  the  usage  of  war. 


288  NOTE 

Page  122.  Piso  speaks  of  the  prowess  of  Aurelian,  and  of  the 
songs  sung  in  the  camp  in  honor  of  him.  '  Vopiscus  has  preserv- 
ed  one  of  these. 

<  Mille  mille,  mille,  decollavimus, 

Unus  homo  mille  decollavimus, 

Mille  vivat  qui  mille  occidit. 

Tantum  vini  habet  nemo 

Quantum  fudit  sanguinis. 
'  Mille  Sarmatas,  mille  Francos 

Semel  et.  semel  occidimus 

Mille  Persas  qugerimus.' 

The  two  letters  on  pages  135  and  137,  it  will  be  observed,  are 
nearly  the  same  as  those  found  in  Vopiscus. 

On  page  172;  Aurelian  is  designated  by  a  soldier  under  the 
nick-name  of  '  Hand-to-his-Sword.'  Vopiscus  also  mentions  this 
as  a  name  by  which  he  was  known  in  the  army.  'Nam  quum 
essent  in  exercitu  duo  Aureliani  tribuni,  hie,  et  alius  qui  cum 
Valeriano  captus  est,  huic  signum  (cognomen)  exercitus  appo- 
suerat  "  Manus  ad  ferrum,"  '  &c. 

Page  280.  Piso  represents  Aurelian  as  wearing  a  crown.  He 
was  the  first  since  the  Tarquins  who  had  dared  to  invest  his 
brow  with  that  symbol  of  tyranny.  So  says  Aurelius  Victor. 
'  Iste  primus  apud  Komanos  Diadema  capiti  innexuit ;  gemmis- 
que  et  aurata  omni  veste,  quod  adhuc  fere  incognitum  Romanis 
moribus  videbatur,  usus  est.' 

On  the  same  page,  in  the  account  of  the  triumph,  a  chariot  of 
Zenobia  is  stated  to  have  been  exhibited,  in  which  it  was  her 
belief  that  she  should  enter  Rome  in  triumph,  which  indeed  had 
been  made  for  that  very  purpose.  This  singular  fact  is  confirm 
ed  by  Vopiscus — c  tertius,  (currus)  quern  sibi  Zenobia  composue- 
rat  sperans  se  urbem  Romanam  cum  eo  visuram ;  quod  earn 
non  fefellit,  nam  cum  eo  urbem  ingressa  est  victa  et  triumphata.' 


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